Hermione and the Year of Independence
by ohitskaylaaah
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts, Hermione returns to school to complete her final year. She and Ron have had a falling out. Draco, who failed his previous year and is fighting own inner demons, has also returned. Between their shared classes, the Masquerade Ball, and the Dueling Club, the two of them spend an unusual amount of time together, forming a 'friendship.' Can she trust him?
1. Chapter 1: The Last First Day

**I'm creating this story line under the pretenses that Draco's grades suffered during his seventh year (which took place while the trio were hunting horcruxes) because of all the stress at home, dealing with Voldemort, his family, and his impending doom. He's returned to finish a proper year. I'm sure there are a couple other instances in which I twisted timelines to allow my plot to exist, so please excuse those changes, or PM me so I can adjust accordingly** **.**

 **I wanted to portray Hermione as the strong female character that she is instead of chasing around after boys all year, as I don't think that is her nature. She will have her fair share of romance so don't be deterred.**

 **Obviously, I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, they are entirely in the capable hands of the lovely JK Rowling.**

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

The summer after the war was peaceful. Hermione spent a lot of time at the Burrow with the Weasley's. Although the atmosphere was somber because of Fred's death, it was a comfort to be surrounded by those who she loved best. There were moments of happiness that shone through these melancholy times but there was also a void left in many of their hearts. Voldemort was gone for good and their lives were moving forward whether they were ready or not. Ron had shut himself off to her the moment they returned to the Burrow. The loss of Fred had changed him. She tried to speak to him, to get him to open up to her, but nothing she said could make him look her in the eyes. She reflected on this change with Harry but he could provide no solace to her anguish. Ron was her best friend and this space between them was unbearable.

One evening, Hermione couldn't sleep. She'd been awakened by another of many dreams that haunted her every time she closed her eyes. Lying in Percy's old room alone, she wished that Ron would open up to her again. She missed him. Even though they were sleeping under the same roof, it felt as if they were miles apart. Gazing out the window, she made a resolute decision: to return to Hogwarts in September and finish her seventh year. There was nothing she could do for Ron here and the time apart would either rekindle the romance that burned so passionately or fizzle out into nothing. Hermione hoped for the former. She laid her head down and was finally able to sleep.

When she awoke, she resolved to tell her news to the family at breakfast. She knew it was early but dressed quickly anyways and rushed downstairs. Sitting at the Weasley's worn oak table, eating a bowl of porridge robotically, was Ron.

"Where's your mum, Ron?", she inquired weakly.

"Out.", he replied without looking up from his bowl.

"Do you think you could look at me? Would it be so awful to just look at me, Ron?" She had been getting frustrated by the cold shoulder she was receiving every time they were in each other's presence.

He looked into her eyes with a scowl on his face. She could see the anger burning within him, feel the heat radiating from his being. It was worse than being ignored

"Happy?", he spat.

"Hardly." she replied. "What have I done to deserve this, Ronald Weasley? I know it's been hard, but it has been for all of us. What can I do to make you happy?"

"Well, for starters, you could stop bothering me while I'm eating."

"Honestly, Ron! This has gone on long enough! Tell me what's wrong!"

"FINE. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S WRONG? MY BROTHER IS DEAD. AND HE'S NEVER COMING BACK. AND WHAT WAS I DOING WHEN THAT HAPPENED? SNOGGING YOU." He slammed his spoon down on the table, breaking the bowl of half eaten porridge, and stormed out of the front door. Her lip trembled. She followed him.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts." She said softly to his back. He was standing facing the overgrown garden, watching a couple of gnomes scurrying about. He didn't turn around.

"When did you decide that?" he asked sullenly.

"Last night, when I couldn't sleep. With everything that has happened, I just think I need to return to my normal life. And that's at Hogwarts. Will you come with me?" She hoped that he could hear the longing in her voice.

"Go back? Not bloody likely." He remained staring at the garden. She approached him, slowly extending her hand to touch his shoulder. He winced and pulled away at the barest brush of her fingers. Looking at him like this, it was hard to envision their lips locking, their arms wrapped around each other in an embrace or holding onto each other for support. It was like none of it had ever happened.

She went back inside and wrote a letter to Professor McGonagall requesting to return the following year. Harry and Ginny approached her as she was rereading it.

"I heard you were returning to Hogwarts", Harry said.

"That's right. I've a letter for Professor McGonagall right here. Would you mind asking your mum if I can borrow Errol, Ginny?" Ginny obliged and left to find Mrs. Weasley. She looked at Harry.

"You talked to Ron, I take it"

"Er… yes, I did."

"And what did he say?"

"It wasn't very nice. I'd rather not repeat it." He looked down at his worn trainers. It was strange to think that not very long ago Ron had accused the two of them of having a relationship. Everyone had expected it of them. She was the only one that had been confident of their strictly platonic friendship.

"You're not going to change my mind. I have to go."

"I know", he replied, "Hogwarts is your home. Like it was mine. But now I have Ginny and Ron and the Weasleys and I can't leave them. You were always brilliant, Hermione. I knew you'd go back." She smiled at him. His support meant the world to her. She couldn't help but hug him.

"I'm going to write you, promise to write back. Keep me updated on Ron. I know he's angry but I hope, after some time, he changes his mind. I know it's been hard on him. He's always been the most susceptible to pain. Look after him, ok?"

"You know I will."

* * *

On September first, the sun rose on a perfect autumn morning. Mrs. Weasley had agreed to accompany Hermione on her trip to King's Cross.

"Got everything, dear?" she asked lovingly.

"Oh yes, I just hope I remembered everything. It seems like such a long time ago that I prepared for school."

"Well, if you've left anything behind, don't hesitate to send an owl, dear." She magicked the school trunks to follow them out the door.

The ministry provided a car and driver to escort them to the train station. It was the least they could do after all they had put them through in the previous years. Loaded in the car, waiting to pull away from the Burrow, Hermione looked longingly at Ron's window. He was watching their progression. She gave a little wave. He instantly closed the curtains. And then they left.

They made good time getting to London. She wanted to arrive early to get a compartment to herself. In all of her previous years, the Hogwarts Express was an enjoyable ride through the country, made so by her companions. She had spent two years as a prefect, a position that she had stepped down from. A little less responsibility was in order for her this year.

Stowing her luggage in the last train car, she returned to hug Mrs. Weasley. Tears were streaming down her face.

"I can't believe how far we've come, dear." Hermione patted her on the back.

"I know Mrs. Weasley. Neither can I."

"Don't forget to write! And know that you are always welcome in our home, even if my son is acting like a complete git." She smiled warmly. Now Hermione had tears in her eyes. One final hug and she turned and boarded the train.

It was strange sitting alone in the compartment. There was something so final about it. Never again would she be sitting here on her way to the start of a new year. Without Ron and Harry by her side, she felt as if she were missing an appendage. She'd never imagined a Hogwarts without the three of them together. She stared out the window, lost in thought, until the lunch trolley stopped outside her compartment.

"Anything from the trolley, dear?" She purchased chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, and pumpkin pasties, Ron and Harry's favorites. Opening the first frog, she bit the head off and glanced at the card, curious as always to read about a famous witch or wizard.

"Dumbledore. Of course. How appropriate," she said to herself.

"Talking to yourself, Granger?" The compartment door slid open. In stepped Draco Malfoy, the last person she expected to see.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"No need for the hostility, Granger. Where's Scarhead and the Weasel?"

"They're not attending, as if that's any concern to you."

"Your boyfriend left you, then?"

"For your information, _I've_ left him." He had touched a nerve at the mention of Ron.

"His loss," he said, looking her up and down with a sly, smirking grin. Then he turned and left the compartment. She was at a loss for words. What was that supposed to mean? And what the bloody hell was that look he gave her? She returned to her thoughts as she changed into her school robes. They were approaching the castle rapidly.

* * *

The start of term feast was as splendid as ever, though much emptier than the previous years. The tables were laden with everything delicious to eat and the magic ceiling was a glorious shade of indigo, stars twinkling like fine jewels. She had chosen a seat to herself once again. She had always been with Ron and Harry. It was nice to be alone if she couldn't be with them. It allowed her to observe and appreciate all of these 'lasts' that she would be experiencing throughout the year. Across the Great Hall, seated at the Slytherin table and alone as well, was Malfoy. And he was staring directly at her. Her stomach dropped. What was he playing at? First his strange actions on the train and now this? She looked away. The feast had cleared itself to be replaced by a wide assortment of desserts. Harry's favorite treacle tart appeared in front of her. She had never understand his fancy for it. She served herself some pudding and slowly ate it. She turned around again. This time she didn't look away.

Hermione left the Great Hall, not looking forward to another night of restless sleep that she knew was coming. As she headed for the marble staircase, she was accosted yet again by Malfoy.

"What are you doing?," she asked scathingly.

"Waiting on you, obviously, Granger." He grinned. He was much taller than she remembered or maybe she had never paid attention.

"And why would you be doing that?"

"Looks like we're both loners this year. Thought we could strike a friendship. If you fancy that, of course."

"Is this some sort of joke? I'm a Mudblood, remember? And you are vile and cruel and thoughtless." She turned and stormed up the stairs, gave the Fat Lady the password (' _Crumple-Horned Snorkack')_ , passed through the common room, up the spiral staircase and went straight to bed. She drew the curtains around her four poster and stared at the ceiling. What was happening? Draco Malfoy wanted to be friends. Friends. With her. She decided to ignore it.

He haunted her dreams. She awoke with a start the next morning. She dressed herself in school robes, took a bit of extra time with her hair, and headed down to breakfast in the GreatHall. Checking her schedule, she found that she had double Potions with the Slytherins first thing. She groaned inwardly. Malfoy caught her eye, waving his own schedule, at her and winked.

Upon entering the classroom, Hermione set up her cauldron at the very front desk and began reading her Potions book. The rest of the class trickled in, Malfoy amongst them. Parvati Patil, another Gryffindor seventh year, walked over to sit by her. She felt a sense of relief until Malfoy approached.

"Sorry, Patil, this seat's taken. Get lost." He crammed his cauldron down along with his bag and stared smugly at Hermione. She rolled her eyes and continued reading.

Professor Slughorn entered the classroom shortly after, greeted them all,and gave instructions for the Invigoration Draught they were to brew by the end of class. Hermione listened attentively, nervous to miss a step or forget an ingredient.

"Pssst, Granger." She ignored him

"Hey. Hey. Granger." She continued to ignore him.

"Hermione." She turned. It was more of an instinct. He had never called her by her first name before.

"What is it, Malfoy? I'm trying to concentrate." He handed her a spare bit of parchment, folded in half. She stuffed it in her bag and continued working.

Quickly the classroom filled with the sound of bubbling cauldrons. The heat from the fires caused her face to perspire and hair to frizz. She took her time cutting up her lemon grass and Fairy Wings. Precision was vital for this potion and she intended to be the best in the class. She glanced over at Malfoy. She had half expected him to be watching her, but to her surprise, he was equally immersed in preparation, stoking the fire under his cauldron occasionally. The hour passed uneventfully.

"In ten minutes time, your potion should have simmered in its final stage and have taken on its vibrant orange hue. You will collect a vial to be turned in as you leave class." Hermione glanced down. She had just added Asphodel, the final ingredient. Her potion was slowly warming from the pale yellow color it had taken on to a color that was remarkably similar to steamed carrots. She knew that it was perfect. Slughorn made his way around the classroom, examining the contents of the cauldrons.

"An excellent concoction, Granger. Well done. Took a page out of Potter's book, no doubt. That boy had quite a knack for potions. Pity he didn't return this year." He strolled over to Malfoy. Hermione was annoyed at his comments. She, unlike Slughorn, knew perfectly well that Harry's potion skills were at best average. He had been using Professor Snape's old textbook which held many secrets to brewing each potion perfectly, although veering from the instructions provided. Harry's talents had been misleading. It had always left a bitter taste in her mouth when he received the praise that was meant for her.

"Very good Mr. Malfoy!," Slughorn praised from the cauldron next to hers, "Miss Granger may have some competition!"

Hermione glowered at her rival. He glanced her way and shrugged. She had to admit, his Invigoration Draught looked remarkably accurate. She doled some of her potion into a vial and placed it upon Slughorn's desk, packed up her belongings, and headed toward the Great Hall for lunch, before she spent the afternoon in her favorite subject, Arithmancy, with Professor Vector. As she dug into her Shepard's Pie, she couldn't help but wonder what Ron was doing at that moment. She pictured him in the field beside the Burrow, perhaps playing Quidditch with Harry, Ginny, and George. She had always enjoyed watching them play. When they were on their brooms, they looked so carefree. She was an awful flier. It was the one thing the boys had always surpassed her at. Harry's skills were impressive from the moment he had sat on a broom. Ron had struggled, always looking rather clumsy and unsure of himself. It was an endearing quality that she held close to her heart. Perhaps she would write to Harry later and inquire about him.

Hermione's classes went well the rest of the day. She was given a moderate amount of difficult homework from Professor Vector and Professor Binns, the History of Magic ghost, had assigned an essay on the Hogwarts founders that she was thrilled to start. She headed straight to the library after dinner.

The library was empty, aside from Madam Pince, the sunken-cheeked and rather unhelpful librarian. Hermione sat alone at a table surrounded by books, including _Hogwarts: A History_. She reached into her bags to retrieve a quill and parchment to scratch notes onto. Instead, her hands grazed the parchment that Malfoy had passed to her in Potions. She unfolded it, unsure of what to expect.

 _Meet me in Greenhouse 1, tonight at midnight. Don't be scared, I won't bite._

 _-Draco_

She crumpled the paper into a ball in her hand. Fat chance, she thought. She wasn't sneaking around at all hours of the night. She began absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the nearest book. She chewed on the tip of her quill. She stared at the words on the pages without actually comprehending what they said. He was getting to her. Frustrated, she slammed the book shut, receiving a hostile look from Madam Pince, threw her things haphazardly into her bag, and stormed back to the dormitory.


	2. Chapter 2: The Rendezvous

**This chapter is where the troubles with Draco begin. And by trouble, I mean the fun.**

 **Also, I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. They lie within the capable hands of the lovely JK Rowling.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

That night, Hermione lay tossing and turning in her bed again. Her mind was rot with curiosity. Determined to fall asleep, she rolled over and shut her eyes tight. What could Malfoy want! She examined his past actions in her mind. In all previous years, he had essentially been their enemy. He tried on multiple occasions to tempt them into trouble. He had always hated the fact that she was more talented, despite the fact that her parents were Muggles. He had even called her a Mudblood, which was the most vulgar thing to call anyone. She hadn't understood the depth of the hatred behind the word initially, but had spent some time in the library researching its origin. On the other hand, many of Malfoy's actions had been influenced by his ignorant father and mother. He was taught from a young age to blindly hate those whose blood was impure. Last summer, when they had been captured and taken to Malfoy Manor to be surrendered to Lord Voldemort, he had been asked to identify Harry. Although she had cast a stinging jinx to disguise Harry's face, Malfoy would definitely still have been able to recognize him. She had thought they were done for, his vicious hate for Harry had always been so apparent. Yet...yet he did not instinctually forfeit them. There was something to be said about that. He was as frightened of the Dark Lord as anyone, and his parents were Death Eaters. His actions, though callous, were always galvanized by his family. Could someone like him change for the better after being raised in that kind of environment? She had to know. She resolved to find out for herself.

Tossing her blankets aside and pulling back the curtains on her four poster, she slipped into her dressing gown and pulled on her shoes. She felt a rush of adrenaline as she pushed passed the portrait hole and into the dark castle. It was exhilarating breaking the rules, something she would never admit to the boys. She crept stealthily down the long stone passageways, keeping hidden in the shadows. Every little sound sent a jolt of fear through her body. More than once she considered going back, but quickly reconsidered, her curiosity outweighing her anxiety. She finally made it to the front door and pushed it open just enough to fit her small frame through. Before it could creak, she pulled out her wand and whispered 'Silencio.' She made her way onto the dark grounds, towards Greenhouse 1. The cool night air made her nightgown cling to her body and she shivered. She should have worn a jacket. The building came into view but she did not see any signs of Malfoy. She turned the handle. Locked. _'Alohomora'_ she muttered, pointing her wand at the lock. It clicked and the door slowly opened in front of her. She looked around. It felt like a century ago that she had been in this classroom, her first year at Hogwarts. The earthy smells filled her nose. Harry and Ron had been absolutely awful to her in those days, calling her a know-it-all, constantly breaking rules and costing Gryffindor house points. She smiled, picturing Ron at eleven years old. He had been much shorter then, their eyes level with each others. It had never occurred to her that he would become her first love. The sound of footsteps alerted her to the arrival of someone. She ducked behind a cactus-like plant in the corner of the greenhouse. She was able to peek around it to view the intruder. She saw the back of Malfoy's blonde head closing the door. He was alone.

She stepped out from behind the plant. Their eyes met.

"Hi," he moved towards her, "Wasn't sure if you'd come."

"I wasn't going to." She still wasn't sure why she was here or what to say to him.

"So what changed your mind?"

"Curiosity, if you must know." He was staring at her with piercing gray eyes. He leaned against the wall of the greenhouse, nonchalant, exuding confidence. Hermione felt intimidated, but not frightened.

"Curiosity, huh? Couldn't stop thinking about me, more like." He gave her that cunning smirk.

"Why are we here, Malfoy?," she demanded.

"I'm interested, Granger."

"Interested in what exactly?" She was not going to preoccupy herself with trying to ascertain his meaning.

"Interested in this." He leaned in quickly before she knew what was happening and kissed her. She could feel his tongue, the warmth from his body. She pushed him away furiously. He was laughing and this added more fuel to her fire. She slapped him, leaving a handprint across his left cheek.

"What the hell was that?" What the hell was that! She was at a loss for words.

"A kiss, Granger. That was a kiss. I'd have thought Weasley would have at least taught you that much. Apparently I was wrong."

"I know what a kiss is. Why would you _ever_ think that _I_ would want to kiss _you_?"

"My classic good looks?"

"You're not the least bit charming, Malfoy."

"I've always liked that spunk, Granger."

"I don't understand. You've literally never liked me. You've always been nasty to me. My parents are Muggles. You've thrown that in my face since the moment we met."

"True. We always want what we can't have though. Isn't that the general consensus?" He was speaking in a very debonair sort of way. There were no signs of duplicity in his mannerisms.

"I love Ron," she confessed.

"I thought you left him."

"I did. To come here."

"And he didn't follow you? I wouldn't let you out of my sight after everything we went through."

"That we went through?"

"Yeah. We. We all fight battles of our own, Granger. They may not be the same, but that doesn't mean that one's pain is greater than the other."

They looked at each other, evaluating the other's words.

"Look," he said, breaking the silence, "Forget the kiss then, if that's possible. Can we try to be friends? I've got no one else. Crabbe and Goyle are gone, and let's face it, they weren't my friends. Most of Slytherin can't understand what my life has been like. Pansy and I are done, she won't talk to me. My father is locked up in Azkaban, my mother has shut down completely." He was appealing to her emotional side. Part of her wanted to walk out of the greenhouse without looking back. Another though, was intrigued by this sudden change of heart. She did feel he deserved a bit of slack, although Harry and Ron would be livid with her if they ever found out. Ron would probably never speak to her again. She couldn't risk losing him.

"I can't. We can't. Too much has happened between us. If Ron ever found out…"

"We'll keep it quiet, obviously. Our friendship would be a disaster for me too."

They were at a standstill.

"...Ok," she managed to say.

"Ok, then it's settled. Now keep your lips to yourself, Granger." He then turned and walked out of the greenhouse. She stood a moment, taking in the last ten minutes. Assuming that she wasn't dreaming, it had to have been the strangest moment she'd experienced at Hogwarts, and that was quite a feat indeed.

* * *

Over the next month, school went by rather quickly. Malfoy and her saw each other regularly. They had developed a rivalry, competing for top marks in all of their classes. Hermione appreciated the competition. They hadn't spent a moment alone together since their rendezvous in the greenhouse, which she still sometimes thought of as she was lying awake at night. She'd heard from Harry once since the start of term. The letter was very brief, updating her on the comings and goings of the Burrow. No word was mentioned of Ron. She took this to mean that there had been no change in his feelings towards her. He was always so stubborn. She contemplated drafting a letter to him, but was constantly changing her mind. She knew he was hurting, but it didn't change the fact that he had wounded her.

After dinner one evening, Hermione made her way into the Entrance Hall, where a crowd of students were gathered around the notice board. She stood back, waiting patiently for her turn. Moments later, Malfoy entered the hall as well. He glanced around at the scene and swaggered over to stand beside her.

"What's going on, Granger?," he inquired.

"I don't know yet. There's quite a queue, isn't there? Haven't had a chance." They both stood quietly in companionship. Once the crowd was cleared, they strode forward together.

"A Masquerade Ball on Halloween. That explains the excitement." Hermione was a little titillated herself. She had been to the Yule Ball in her fourth year not knowing what to expect. Ron had of course ruined her night with his jealousy. He had had such an obsession with Viktor Krum that summer but the moment she had shown up at the ball with him, Krum became the enemy. She still kept in touch with Viktor, though Ron didn't know. He would be highly upset.

"Alright, alright, I'll go with you." Malfoy was gazing down at her, grinning.

"Don't think I'm begging you to go, Malfoy. There are plenty of boys who would be happy to go with me."

"I don't doubt it," he admitted, "but you wouldn't have nearly as much fun." She had to admit to herself that he was probably right. Although they didn't spend time by themselves, they did enjoy the heated debates they had in their mutual classes. There weren't very many N.E.W.T. students at Hogwarts so the classes weren't divided by house as they always had been.

She eyed him up and down. There was something that drew her to him, his intelligence, his confidence. It didn't hurt that he was rather good looking, but she would never tell him that.

"Fine. We can go. _As friends only_. And we mustn't be recognized. The last thing that I need is for Ron to get wind of this."

"You talking to the Weasel again?"

"Well, no. But eventually he'll write and I don't need you to get in the way of us reconciling."

"Alright, Granger. But you may be whistling a different tune come Halloween. I clean up well." He turned and walked away towards the dungeons.

The next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall announced a Hogsmeade trip was scheduled for the following weekend. This was welcome news, as Hermione did not have anything to wear for the upcoming ball. After dinner, she walked up to the Owlery to borrow one of the school's barn owls. She had decided to send an owl to Harry, in the hopes that he could meet her in the village. She returned to her dormitory with high spirits.

Once she entered the common room, she sprawled across an armchair next to the fireplace and began working on her homework. It was amazing how little she had to worry about with Ron and Harry at home. Normally she would be rushing to finish her own work to make sure they had begun theirs. Those two were the worst procrastinators. She was constantly having to coddle them into completing assignments before the last minute. It was honestly quite annoying.

At breakfast, the post arrived. The school owl had returned with a messily scrawled response from Harry on the back of her note. He agreed to meet her in Hogsmeade at the Three Broomsticks at one o'clock. She smiled, absently feeding the school owl a bit of toast before it took off to rest in the Owlery. She hadn't realized how much she missed him.

The week drug by, as time often does when one is looking forward to something pleasant. Finally, the weekend arrived in the form of a crisp, windy day. There was already a bit of frost on the ground but the sun was high and shining, making for a refreshing walk to the village. The only shop Hermione visited was Gladrags Wizard Wear. She entered the shop, a bell jingling from above her. It was much larger than she remembered. Racks upon racks of clothing lined the walls. There was a display of silly socks that she had once perused with Harry and Ron, searching for the perfect thank you gift for Dobby in their fourth year. There were a couple of girls shopping here already. She glanced around, uncertain where to begin.

"Need help, love?" A young witch had appeared from behind a rack of rather large coats. She had violently purple hair, dark makeup lining her eyes, and a ring in her nose. She was also very pretty. The red dress she wore left nothing to the imagination and Hermione had trouble making eye contact.

"Umm, yes? I really don't know what I'm looking for."

"Hogwarts student? Going to the ball, then? You got a date, love?" Hermione nodded, ogling the young witch.

"Yes, I've a date. We're just going as friends though." She glanced unintentionally down at the witch's cleavage again.

"Ok, whatever you say. You like what ya see?," the witch asked, brazenly.

"I'm s-s-sorry!," stuttered Hermione, "I didn't mean to stare."

"It's alright, if ya got it, flaunt it. That's what me mum always said." She turned and strode to the back of the store. Hermione was quite embarrassed. She headed for a corner of the store and began sifting through brightly patterned frocks, her cheeks burning. She was considering leaving without a purchase when the witch returned, a dress laid across her arm.

"Well, come on, then!" She ushered Hermione to the back of the store. She pushed a red dress, identical the one she was wearing, into Hermione's hands.

"Oh, no, thank you. It's lovely, I just don't think it's for me," she stammered.

"Oh just put it on, love. What's the worst that could happen? You like it? Bloke falls madly in love with ya? Doesn't sound too bad to me." Resigned to her fate, Hermione closed the door to undress. Pulling the garment over her head and adjusting it, she exited the fitting room, hugging her arms across her chest. The witch quickly grabbed her around the shoulders and directed her to a floor length mirror.

Hermione's jaw dropped. The dress hugged her curves. Her chest, which she generally kept hidden under a cardigan, was on display and she felt a little flutter of pride. She had not prepared herself for the notion that she may like this dress. She felt powerful and provocative in a way that she had never experienced before. She smiled at her own reflection.

"I'll take it."

The witch winked at her.

"Go ahead and change, love. I've just gotten a shipment of masks in. Meet me at the register and choose whichever you fancy."

Leaving Gladrags with her packages in tow, she made her way up the street to the Three Broomsticks to meet Harry. He was already seated at a table in

the corner. Sitting next to him was Ron. Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she considered turning tail and heading back to school, claiming a head cold. Then, before she knew it, Harry was waving her over and pointing at a frothy mug of butterbeer that was obviously for her. She gave him what she hoped was a genuine smile and took her seat across from them.

"I'm so glad you guys could make it. Ron, it's such a nice surprise." He looked different, still a bit angry, but able to look at her which was a positive change. He glanced at her packages.

"So how's school been?," Harry inquired.

"Oh, really wonderful. It's such a nice change being back at Hogwarts. My classes have been keeping me so busy. How have you been? How's Ginny?"

"She's great, I'm actually about to meet her Madame Puddifoot's…," he said guiltily. He looked at the floor.

"Oh wow, ok. Well, it was really great seeing you then, Harry." She waved goodbye as he stood up and walked out the front door. It closed with a clang, and then it was just her and Ron.

"What's in the bag?"

"Oh, it's just a dress. There's to be a Masquerade for Halloween. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

"'Spose you've a date then," he glowered.

"Oh, no actually. Just rather excited to dress up." She took a large sip of butterbeer and choked on it.

"Right. Well, guess I'll go then." He pushed his chair back.

"Ron, wait. Don't leave. Please, sit down." He stopped. She had grabbed his hand and he was staring at their fingers touching. He took a seat.

"I can't do this with you anymore," she whispered to the table. She couldn't look at him. "I want my friend back."

" I don't know what you want me to say, Hermione. You _left_ me. After everything that happened, you just shipped off to school and haven't said a word to me since. What did you expect me to do? Come chasing after you?"

"You were awful to me, Ron! I couldn't take it anymore, the way you'd look at me. It was like you hated me. _I tried_! I kept trying. You wouldn't let me in. So yes, I left. I always planned to come back to Hogwarts. I was hoping you'd come with me." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. He refused to look at her. At that moment, the door opened, allowing the cold wind to penetrate their cloaks. They both sipped their butterbeers in silence. Suddenly, Ron tensed. Hermione turned to see what he was scowling at. Malfoy had entered and taken a seat at the bar. He was in the middle of ordering from Rosmerta, glancing around the room, when they locked eyes. Malfoy registered the situation, glaring at Ron with hatred.

"C'mon, Hermione." Ron stood up rather quickly and rushed her towards the door. Malfoy stopped them before they had made their escape.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?," he spat. Malfoy looked viscous.

"Leaving obviously. Get out of my way before I hex you." Ron made to shove Malfoy but Malfoy swerved out of the way. He looked at Ron, sizing him up, and shaking his head in disdain. He returned to his seat, where Madame Rosmerta had placed his drink. Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and lead him into the street.

"You didn't tell me Malfoy was here." He was shaken up over the encounter. She knew that his anger wouldn't ebb anytime soon. Why did Draco have to show up at that moment? It was such unfortunate timing.

"I hadn't had a chance, had I Ron? We'd only just begun talking. Do you want to meet Harry and Ginny? It's rather chilly out here now." She shivered, rubbing her hands on her arms to warm herself up. That's when she realized she'd forgotten her packages.

"No, I don't. Last thing I want to see is my sister snogging Harry in some dark tea shop. I'm leaving." And with that, he turned and Disapparated on the spot without saying goodbye. Hermione headed back to the Three Broomsticks. The warmth of the bar enveloped her as she walked in. She gazed around. Her packages were still on the chair beside where she'd been sitting moments ago, before everything turned south. Malfoy was still seated at the bar.

"Hey Granger. Where's your boyfriend?" He sipped his drink.

"He's left. I forgot my packages." She held them up lamely. He nodded and pulled out the chair beside him.

"Rosmerta, a round for the lady, if you don't mind." Hermione's first instinct was to decline, but after the ordeal she just went through with Ron, she reconsidered, accepting the stool to his left. She examined the drink. It was in a short, fat glass and had a single ice cube floating in it. The aroma burned her nostrils.

"What is this?"

"Ogden's Old Firewhiskey," he replied, sipping his own. She sampled hers. It burned all the way down to the pit of her stomach. She coughed and sputtered as she set the glass down on the bar top. He laughed. They sat in silence for awhile, sipping their drinks. After the initial shocking taste, the whiskey was not at all bad. It burned but it warmed up the insides and left a nice feeling, like a hearth inside of her stomach. It also made her feel brave.

"I bought a dress today," she informed him.

"Oh yeah? Can't wait, Granger." He gave her a sidelong glance.

"I talked to Ron," she admitted, "and he hates me." She didn't know why she was telling him this. Once she started talking though, she couldn't stop. She told him about the summer, the way he had shut down. She told him how she'd tried to get through to him and failed at every attempt. She told him how hurt she'd felt when he cringed under her touch. She even admitted how angry she was that nothing she did was right in his eyes. It felt as if she talked for hours, yet he didn't interrupt. When she'd run out of steam, she looked over at him. Their eyes met.

"He's a prat," he assessed.

"He really is," she agreed. He stared down into his drink and then spoke, his voice raw with emotion.

"My father was sent to Azkaban this summer. The ministry seized our house and belongings. My mother really lost it when I told her I was going back to school. Couldn't believe it. I had to get away though. You have no idea what it was like for me the last couple years. The Dark Lord... " He shuddered. She didn't press him. She could only imagine what it had been like under the control of Voldemort.

"Want to head back to school?," she offered. He threw a Galleon down on the bar and stood up in compliance. He held the door open.

"After you."


	3. Chapter 3: The Masquerade

**This is a short chapter but a good one I think. Enjoy.**

 **Also, I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. JK Rowling does.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

The days slipped by easily over the next few weeks as Halloween approached. The castle was decorated as gloriously as it had always been. The rumors speculating about the ball were becoming more ridiculous as the date drew closer. Hermione's lessons remained taxing and yet satisfying at the same time. She had still been keeping her distance from Malfoy but their encounters in class were always affable. They had chosen to partner each other in Charms class the previous week where they were practicing Disillusionment Charms. It proved to be a rather tricky spell, but by the end of the lesson, they were both able to perform it to Professor Flitwick's satisfaction.

During the last lesson before the ball, Malfoy plucked the elbow of Hermione's robes.

"Meet my by the lake at eight o'clock." She nodded that she would. Lessons were cut short to allow for an early Halloween feast and give the students time to prepare for the Masquerade later that evening. Hermione gobbled her food as fast as she could, nervous and excited to slip into that red dress.

Back in her dorm, she brushed her long brown hair. She had ordered a bottle of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion. She ran her fingers through her locks, rubbing the potion in and smoothing her hair down flat. She tied it in a low, sleek ponytail on the side of her head. Opening her trunk, she removed the dress, examining it. As she pulled the dress on, she began to get anxious. She picked up the black mask and placed it over her eyes. She used her wand to apply a Sticking Charm. She checked the time. Half past seven. She took a few calming breaths and headed down through the common room, avoiding eye contact, and out the portrait hole.

Many students were walking around curiously, trying to sneak peeks into the Great Hall. Several of the male students glanced at her as she passed. The sun was mostly set as she crept out the front doors. She strolled across the lawn and towards the lake. Malfoy was already there, tossing crisps to the giant squid. He was dressed in all black with a white mask covering one side of his face, his blonde hair tousled effortlessly. Hermione felt her stomach flutter as she watched him. There was a very real struggle taking place within her. An image of Ron flashed across her mind, followed closely by a wave of guilt. Then Malfoy turned and noticed her. At first, he didn't seem to register who she was, but after she waved nervously, he approached. All the guilt washed away as she looked into those gray eyes. She swore to keep her wits about her this evening.

"That's some dress, Granger." He continued to stare, his eyes exploring the curves of her body. She could feel herself blushing.

"Well, you look handsome as well. Shall we go in?" He took a flask from his back pocket and turned it up, then handed it to her. She paused, considering her previous decision to remain clear headed. Already his presence was clouding her judgement. She took a deep breath, gazing around the grounds. This was her final year, her last moments at Hogwarts were upon her. She decided, in that moment, to not let them go to waste. Hermione accepted the flask from Malfoy and mimicked his motion. The burn of liquid courage coursed through her. She put her arm through his and together they strode into the school.

The Great Hall was dimly lit with hundreds of tapers, floating mysteriously in the air. They gave off a macabre glow as the flames wavered in the vast room. Giant Jack-o-lanterns were placed sporadically along the walls. The curtains that were usually house colors had been replaced with a material that eerily resembled giant spiderwebs. A stage had been erected in the center of the hall, the long house tables swept to the sides, now laden with punch bowls, bottles of butterbeer, and spooky finger foods. The Weird Sisters were playing their first song. It was a fast, upbeat tune that Hermione had never heard. Growing up in the Muggle world, she hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy wizard music. A combination of the atmosphere, the whiskey, and her company had Hermione in a state of euphoria. She grabbed Malfoy's hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. He obliged.

The next three songs were the same pace as the first. Finally, the music slowed, allowing them to take a break. Hermione stopped dancing and began to turn toward the punch bowls. She was dreadfully hot. Malfoy placed a hand on her waist and turned her around to face him, guiding her back to the dance floor.

"I love this song," he whispered into her ear, "Do you know it?" She shook her head. They swayed in time with the music, their bodies pressed against each other. This did not seem like a platonic dance _(When all is dark and there's no light/Lost in the deepest star of night/I see you)._ He pulled her even closer to him. She could feel him breathing on her neck. ( _Your hands are shaking, baby/ You ain't been sleeping, baby._ ) She considered everything that had happened to her over the summer, all of the events that had lead her to this point, and not one of them could have prepared her for this moment. If someone had told her that she would be dancing with Draco Malfoy, even two months ago, she would have laughed in their face. It was like an alternate universe that they were both a part of. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall against his chest ( _You still look good to me/ But you're no good for me_ ). For just a moment, Ron's face appeared in her mind, but she quickly swept it aside. He'd ruined one ball for her, she wasn't going to let him destroy this one. As much as she loved Ron, she needed to explore her own desires. She broke apart from the embrace and lead Malfoy through the Great Hall, towards the entrance doors. ( _This is the night/ This is the night_ ).

The cool night air rushed over her as she pushed the doors open, revitalizing her and making her more aware of the decision she had already made. Ducking into the shadows of the castle, she wrapped her hand around Draco's neck, pulling his face to hers. She brushed her lips over his, slowly leaning closer. The tension that had built between them was on the verge of eruption. Her heart was racing, her limbs felt jittery and weak. She opened her mouth to speak but found no words. He wrapped his arms around her, scooping her up effortlessly, pressing her against the cold, stone castle wall. His kisses were hungry, almost violent. She felt his teeth nip at her bottom lip, felt his tongue exploring her mouth. He tasted of whiskey. His hands traveled over her body, roaming outside of the red dress, his fingers slipping sneakily down her neckline. She felt reckless. It was a little frightening how overwhelming her desires were for him. She slowly pushed him away. He set her back on her feet. They locked eyes. She let out a nervous giggle.

"Perhaps we should go back inside," she suggested. He shook his head, leaning in again, hungry for more. This time she turned away. As badly as she wanted him, she couldn't allow it to go any further. She was much too logical to enable her heart to rule her mind.

"No, Draco. That's enough." She glanced up at him.

"C'mon Hermione. Let me show you what you've been missing." He tugged at her dress, trying to lure her in.

"Stay here if you want, but I'm leaving." She side stepped him and headed toward the stone stairs. The light from the Entrance Hall shown upon the ground. It was much colder now than before. She shivered.

She re-entered the Great Hall, the ball now in full swing around her. The dance floor was full of students, some of whom may have had a few too many butterbeers. She smiled as she watched a couple creep stealthily into the shadows together. Hermione headed towards one of the long tables, overdue for a drink. Opening a butterbeer for herself, she turned and surveyed the room. Spotting an empty chair, she headed in its direction.

Thoughtfully sipping her beverage, she relived the last half hour. Did she feel guilty? Yes. Did she regret it? No. She was scared of how easily it developed, however. Hermione was so used to being in control that the overwhelming desire she'd felt was difficult to explain. She looked up as a few people entered the hall. No sign of Draco.

A boy approached her, extending his hand. She decided to put aside her internal ramblings for another evening.

"Want to dance?" The music was blaring so he had to shout. She nodded in agreement and followed him onto the dance floor.

The rest of the night passed by quickly. Hermione swapped dance partners a number of times, enjoying the distraction from herself. By the time midnight had fallen upon them, her feet were sore and she wore genuine smile on her face. Malfoy had never returned. She walked alone to the marble stairs.


	4. Chapter 4: The Dueling Club

**I wanted Draco to be the dark, brooding, snarky character that I envisioned when I read the series. I also wanted to encompass the ways he is coping with the events that he and his family have gone through in the last couple of years. I didn't think that I could accomplish this through Hermione's eyes, so here's a 'Draco' chapter, with Hermione stepping back into the spotlight at the end. Probably more to come like this, as I enjoyed writing in his perspective. I think it adds a layer of depth to the story that I didn't envision when I began writing.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4:**

 **(** _ **Draco)**_

Who did Granger think she was? He took the flask out of his pocket again, taking a lengthy swig. He sat moodily on the ground, back against the wall as hers had been not a minute before. How the tables turn, he thought sullenly to himself. She was definitely not as willing as he had anticipated. He had thought for sure that that song and dance (literally) would have her begging for him. It almost worked, too. _She_ was the one who tugged _him_ out the front doors. He smiled. Hermione was the distraction he'd been looking for. She was much prettier than when they were in school. She wore a confidence that she had never had in all her previous years at Hogwarts. As much as that drew him to her, it would be a challenge to overcome. She didn't seem ready to let her guard all the way down with him. In other words, she was perfect.

He stood up, brushing the grass from his clothes. He swayed a bit on his feet. Pulling the last of the whiskey from his flask into his mouth, he walked back through the front doors of the castle. His intentions were to re-enter the ball but upon gazing through into the Great Hall, he noticed Hermione. She was smiling, dancing with some pathetic nobody. He turned and immediately headed toward the dungeons, fuming.

He proceeded through the Slytherin common room, passing up the leather sofa by the fire which was his favorite spot to sulk. He walked into his dormitory. It was empty aside from the furnishings. He flopped down onto his bed and rifled through his trunk. His hands grazed a smooth glass bottle and he pulled it out victoriously. Grabbing a glass from his nightstand, he poured a generous portion of the amber liquid. Leaning back against the mountain of pillows, he drank himself to sleep.

Draco arose the next afternoon, mind clouded and fuzzy. There was a dull pain behind his eyes that had become a constant companion to him. He headed up to the kitchens, stopping in front of the portrait of fruit to tickle a pear in just the right spot. It was abuzz with the noises of the house elves, bustling about after lunch had been cleared from the Great Hall.

"How can we serve you, young sir?," asked the nearest elf, bowing low, its nose touching the ground.

"I've missed lunch and I'm starving. Pack me some food and I'd like a flagon of pumpkin juice, ice cold." The elf scurried away and returned moments later with his demands.

"That will be all." He waved the elf away and strode out of the kitchen with his meal. He returned to the Common room and chose a seat on the sofa in front of the fire. Munching thoughtfully, he wondered what Granger was doing. Probably in the library, nose in a book if he had to guess. He spiked his pumpkin juice before drinking it.

Draco had spent the summer trapped at Malfoy Manor. His father had been taken to Azkaban not long after the battle of Hogwarts. His mother had begged and pleaded with the Ministry, but to no avail. She succumbed to a laundry list of manic behavior. Her moods were never predictable. One moment she was redecorating the guest room, the next screaming at him about who knows what. Often these bouts of anger were followed by a tear-filled apology and accompanied with a shower of expensive gifts. She drowned her pain in a number of substances, most dominantly alcohol. That one he understood. Without it, he'd never sleep, haunted by images of days gone by.

The last few years had been unbearable. He had always been proud of his family name, their connections, their dark heritage. Once You-Know-Who rose back to power, Draco had thought their time had come. He was painfully wrong, however. His father had made mistakes that the Dark Lord sought to punish him for. He selected Draco for the task of murdering Dumbledore. How could he, a sixth year student, destroy Albus Dumbledore? It was a death trap. All year, he struggled with it. He was terrified of both succeeding and failing. That infamous night on top of the Astronomy Tower, he had had a change of heart. Dumbledore was offering him salvation, protection. There was a glimmer of hope. Then Snape came in and killed him. He could still see the old man's frame, lying broken on the grounds. His last hope had died with him.

The Dark Lord took up residence in his home. His life and the lives of his family members, were constantly in jeopardy. His father's wand was taken from him, leaving him defenseless and disgraced. Draco had always had a high opinion of his father, believing he could accomplish anything. He was proved wrong on this front again and again. Draco spent the rest of his day in solitude, sipping his cocktail by the fire, lost in his memories.

The following morning, Draco entered the Great Hall for breakfast, scanning the faces at the Gryffindor table as he took his seat among his own house. There she was, Hermione, sitting alone reading the Daily Prophet, nibbling on a bit of toast. As she flipped to the next page, she glanced up and noticed his stare. She gave a timid sort of half smile, using only the side of her lips and raising an eyebrow. It created a dimple on her cheek that he found infuriatingly adorable. He returned to his own meal, knowing they would be seeing each other shortly in Potions.

The classroom was empty when he arrived. He placed his belongings upon the desk at the front of the class as usual. Hermione crept through the door, moments after him, looking rather sheepish.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, "What happened to you the other night?"

"Went to bed." He would not be giving her the satisfaction that she, a Mud-Blood, had made him jealous. She looked down at the desk, unsure of how to respond.

"Well, it was quite fun. It's too bad you missed it." She went about her usual routine, organizing her quill and parchment, pulling out her Potions book and flipping to the chapter where she'd left off. Not the reaction he had been hoping for. He sulked.

The lesson passed by slowly. His mind was all over the place, far from this classroom. He only half listened as Slughorn provided them with instructions. By the end of class, Hermione's potion was perfect, his slightly sub par. He shrugged it off. Still better than everyone else's.

Hermione walked passed him to get to the door at the end of the lesson. She didn't look back. Draco was a little confused by the turn of events. He had assumed that she would be fawning over him after the ball, begging him for more. He had been mistaken. He sat down at lunch, still obsessing over her motives. He resigned to the fact that he would have to work harder if he wanted to retain her interest in him. The choice of 'distractions' at Hogwarts was slim. Besides, he really did enjoy the rivalry they had and he'd always been up for a challenge.

* * *

 **(** _ **Hermione)**_

Hermione rushed out of class after she placed her sample of Wiggenweld Potion upon Professor Slughorn's desk. Professor McGonagall had requested her to swing by her office prior to lunch and she wouldn't dream of being late. She knocked on the door and was told to enter. Professor McGonagall was seated behind her desk within the smallstudy. The Quidditch pitch could be spotted from the window and the sun was shining brightly upon the stone floor.

"Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Granger. Have a seat." She offered Hermione a tin of biscuits, which she knew to accept.

"I have a proposal for you. A number of students have come to me requesting the return of the Dueling Club." Hermione clearly recalled her previous experience with this particular club. It was during her second year, when dreamy Professor Lockhart had been their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But then of course there was that little tiff between Harry and Justin Finch-Fletchy involving the snake, everyone thought Harry was the heir of Slytherin, and that pretty much put an end to it.

"Considering your prowess in all fields of magical academia, I was wondering if you'd be interested in running the club this year. Of course, you are under no obligation, however, I feel the need to inform you that many students have requested your presence." She gazed down at Hermione over the brim of her square-rimmed glasses.

"Wow, professor. That's...wow." Hermione was at a loss for words.

"What is your answer, Ms. Granger? I must get back to work." She stacked some papers in her hands and slid them into a file on her desk.

"Um, well... Ok. Ok, I'll do it," she nodded for emphasis.

"Excellent, here is a list of everyone that has shown interest and you can begin scheduling meetings as they fit into your schedule. You're dismissed," she said, with a note of finality.

Hermione headed off to lunch, excited to get started. This was quite an opportunity. This type of extracurricular activity would look excellent to potential employers once the year was finished. It reminded her of the D.A. from her fifth year, when the Ministry had meddled with the teachings at Hogwarts. She had taken it upon herself to solicit Harry to teach anyone willing to learn how to defend themselves. They'd accomplished quite a bit that year.

She delved into the file as she ladled stew onto her plate. There were _fifty_ students on the list already! How was she supposed to teach that many people? She placed the folder in her bag and finished eating, devising a strategy while she chewed.

That evening, Hermione sat at a table in the corner of the common room, sucking on the tip of her quill. She had a blank sheet of parchment in front of her. Its emptiness was taunting her lack of solutions. There was no way around it. She would need help. And there was only one other seventh year that could compete with her. Malfoy. She sighed inwardly. That could go terribly wrong. She enjoyed his company, but after the ball she wasn't sure if continuing their fraternization was wise. He made her feel temerarious, which both excited and scared her. She couldn't trust herself around him. She'd have to think about it.

Giving up on the Dueling Club for now, she began a letter to Ron. He'd been on her mind quite a bit since the ball, whether from guilt or longing she couldn't be sure. It took quite a bit of revising and the best part of an hour but finally she was satisfied with what she had written.

 _Dear Ron,_

 _I hope that this letter finds you well. School has been keeping me busy. McGonagall's asked me to head the Dueling Club. I'm pretty excited about it. The ball was fun. The Weird Sisters performed again._

 _I'm writing you for two reasons: The first is to tell you that I am sorry. I know that you are hurting. I know that everything has been difficult for you and that losing Fred tore you apart. There's nothing that I can say to remove your pain. Only time can heal. The second thing that I have to say is that I am angry with you, Ronald Weasley. You're my best friend and there's absolutely no excuse for the way you've treated me._

 _Despite everything, I do miss you. Please give Harry and your family my love._

 _-Hermione_

She rolled the letter up and carried it with her to the dorm where she placed it on her nightstand. She'd mail it tomorrow between classes. With all that said and done, she crawled into her four poster, drew the curtains, and fell asleep.

The next day during Charms, Hermione partnered with Draco again. She had concluded that she would at least discuss the Dueling Club with him and gauge his interest before she enlisted his help. He looked awful, she noted. There were bags under his bloodshot eyes and his skin was more pale than usual.

"Are you feeling alright? You look dreadful," Hermione pointed out.

"That's sweet of you to say, Granger," he smiled. "I've had a bit of trouble sleeping is all. Nothing to worry about. I'll be sticking around to keep you company." He waved his wand at the frog hopping around on their desk.

" _Immobulus!"_ It stopped, freezing in mid-air.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to start a Dueling Club," she said casually.

"Sign me up, Granger. I'd love to have a proper duel with you." His eyes lit up as he spoke.

"Oh you would, would you? Well, in that case, I have a proposal." He looked interested, she had to admit. That was promising.

"Fifty students have already given McGonagall there names and I still haven't posted anything on the notice boards. I can only imagine how many more students will sign up once that happens." He nodded, listening attentively. "I will duel you at the end of the year _if_ you help me teach these students properly." She cast her eyes down. She didn't want to look let down if he declined.

"Absolutely I will. When do we start?" The prospect of dueling her seemed to have brightened his eyes. He looked more alert than when class began.

"Meet me in the the Entrance Hall after dinner and we'll find an empty classroom and begin our lesson plans." He agreed. That settled it then, Hermione thought to herself. Let the duels begin.

After dinner, Draco met her as she requested and together they searched for an empty classroom in which to discuss their plans. They selected one on the third floor, rearranging chairs so they could sit across from each other. Hermione removed her extensive notes from her bag and laid them across the desk between them.

"Ok, so here's what I've got so far," she began, "I think that we should meet twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays, for ninety minutes. It will have to be in the Great Hall, there are too many students to use a classroom so the meetings will need to be held after dinner. How does seven o'clock sound to you?" He nodded his head in approval. "Right, then the other thing is spells. I thought we'd work on a different spell at each meeting, while the two of us walk around helping everybody. The last meeting of the month will be a review of all the spells learned previously." She looked up at him, breathless. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking.

"How about a bit of competition?," he suggested. "We could divide the group up equally, each teaching our own 'class' essentially. We could host a bracket-style tournament at the end of the year. Winner takes all the glory." She glanced at him, lost in thought.

"Ok," she agreed. "That will give everyone more incentive to be diligent." She smiled across the desk at him. She was glad she'd canvassed him for help.

Standing up, she made a move to leave the classroom. He copied her motions as well.

"I'll see you Tuesday at seven," she said, turning towards the door. He stepped in front of her. She was uncomfortably aware of how close he was.

He leaned down, his lips poised to meet hers.

"Draco," she began, "this can't happen anymore." He opened his gray eyes, flashing with anger. She knew she'd embarrassed him. She felt awkward, but she couldn't continue this charade with him.

"What's wrong, Granger?," he asked cheekily, "Scared of what you might do? You certainly weren't pushing me away on Halloween." She _was_ scared of what she might do. Malfoy was dangerous for her. She prided herself on her composure. She had to be careful around him.

"I'm not scared of you, Malfoy. The ball was a one time thing. I was letting loose, living in the moment. It _won't_ be happening again." She turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Malfoy alone again.


	5. Chapter 5: Teamwork

**Another short-ish chapter, but I didn't want to end in an awkward place.**

 **As always, I don't own the rights to Harry Potter. That's all JKR.**

 **Chapter 5**

* * *

 _ **(Draco)**_

Draco stood alone in the deserted classroom as Hermione's head disappeared from sight. His advances had been spurned yet again. His pride was still stinging as a result but he knew that the Dueling Club would be the perfect opportunity to get closer to her. Just a week from tomorrow and he would have plenty of chances to win her trust. He hoped it wouldn't take too long. He wasn't sure how much longer he could restrain the beast that growled inside him every time they touched. He headed off to his dormitory alone, anticipating the numbness that was soon to come, allowing him to sleep. He had overdone it last night, he thought to himself. He'd have to be a bit more careful with his consumption if he wanted to keep it hidden. Draco was certain Hermione wouldn't approve of his coping mechanisms.

Time crept by over the next week but finally Draco had made it to Tuesday. He sat beside Hermione in Transfiguration, discussing their plans for the evening. They were trying to transfigure a gerbil into a jewelry box.

"So, I was thinking," she began, waving her wand, "that we should start with two spells tonight. I know that seems a bit unprecedented, but I wanted to teach Shield Charms first." The gerbil turned into a small, gold filigree jewelry box. Little roses made from garnet adorned it. She opened it up, examining her work. It even played music, for Christ's sake. She was always impressing him.

"How about Stunning Spells?," he offered. She smiled at him, putting her hand on his forearm. The beast inside him rumbled subtly

"That's exactly what I was thinking! Perfect. I just can't wait to get started. Will you come early? I want to be as prepared as possible. First impressions, you know." She was positively giddy.

"I could never disappoint you, Granger." He waved his own wand, tapping it against the gerbil. His jewelry box was a matte black, carved of stone, and adorned with a single silver serpent. No music played when he lifted the top.

Professor McGonagall commended their transfigurations at the end of class when she pulled them aside to discuss the meeting that evening.

"Please be advised that your meeting should end promptly at eight-thirty. I will allow the two of you until nine o'clock sharp to be out of your dormitories, but after that, there will be no exceptions. I would like a revised copy of the members tomorrow morning on my desk, Ms. Granger," she finished, turning and leaving them alone in the room. Draco grabbed his bag and headed to lunch, Hermione at his side.

That evening, he met Hermione in the Great Hall after dinner. The food had been cleared and the tables banished to the perimeter of the room. There was a stack of pillows lying in the middle of the floor and Hermione was plopped down on them, examining a sheet of parchment. Her eyes seemed a bit teary as she scanned the page. He didn't think it was related to their lesson, but he wasn't the type to pry.

"Hey Granger," he began, "Ready to get this thing started?" He had startled her. She fumbled with the paper, cramming into her bag and faking a smile.

"Oh, you frightened me. You're right on time."

"What's with the pillows?," he asked, helping her up.

"Oh, well, when we practiced Stunning Spells in the D.A., the pillows came in handy. I thought we could use them so people don't injure themselves when they fall. The only thing is, it's hard to control which direction you go once you're Stunned..." She trailed off, searching her mind for another solution. She was still lost in thought when the first few people meandered through the doors.

"Oh, no. It's starting." She was rambling and he could tell she was nervous. Taking the lead, Draco greeted the students. They were young, probably in their second year.

"Hello, are you here for the Dueling Club?" They both nodded. "Well, here's a sign-in sheet. Find your name and write your signature on the line provided." He glanced back at Hermione. She smiled gratefully.

When the group was fully assembled, sitting cross-legged on the floor, Hermione spoke to the crowd as a whole, welcoming them. She explained what they had discussed and began separating them into two groups. She gave each a number, one or two, and had them divide on either side of the Great Hall. This took up a bit of time, as some people wanted to be with their friends. Hermione walked around, rearranging, until it seemed like everyone was satisfied. Draco watched her as she worked, admiring her dedication.

* * *

 _ **(Hermione)**_

Hermione received a response from Ron with the evening Post. She had placed it in her bag to read later while she was alone, afraid of what it might say. After magicking the tables out of the way and collecting pillows from Professor Flitwick, she had built up enough resolve to read it. She opened the envelope slowly, unsure of what to expect. She could tell he'd written it quickly, his penmanship scrawled sloppily. There was only one sentence in the center of the page. ' _Do not contact me again._ ' She could feel her eyes stinging, trying to hold back tears. She reread those five words over, hardly believing them.

"Hey Granger, ready to get this thing started?" She jumped. She hadn't heard anyone enter. Malfoy was towering over her, looking at her curiously as she lay on the pillows. She took a deep breath and put Ron out of her mind. She had a Dueling Club to run. She hurriedly stuffed the letter into her bag and accepted Malfoy's hand to help her up.

When the first couple of students arrived, Hermione could feel the nerves. She always got tongue-tied when she was nervous, and it didn't help that her mind was in two places at once. Draco came to her rescue, making up for his actions from the previous week by speaking on her behalf, giving her a moment's reprieve to gather her bearings. She had been regretting her decision to include him that evening as she sat in her dormitory, but now she was glad she did.

The students in the Dueling Club seemed anxious to learn. She was overcome by the turn out. There were thirty five students in each group, comprised of mostly third and fourth years, although there were a few first and second years in the mix. Draco and she spoke to their groups individually, having them pair up and grab a number of pillows, placing themselves disjointedly throughout the room. They all practiced reciting their spells, wandless at first. The words ' _Protego!'_ and ' _Stupefy'_ echoed throughout the hall as the mass of voices jumbled together. When Hermione and Draco were satisfied, the pairings took turns stunning and blocking. Hermione walked around, helping where she could and providing praises to her students. She snuck glances at Draco as he did the same. She had to admit, she was warming to him. She could tell he was as invested in this as she was. By the end of the meeting, most students were able to effectively cast both spells. There were a few bruised backsides but no real injuries were sustained. Hermione congratulated everyone on a job well done as they made their way to the doors.

"Well, that went well," Hermione gushed. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes shining with excitement. She looked at Draco. He was grinning back at her.

"Yeah, that was pretty fun, actually. Great job, Granger." He patted her on the shoulder, awkwardly. She gave him a look. He chuckled.

"What? Was that weird? My apologies. I don't know what to do with myself around you." He stuck his hands in his pockets, apparently not sure what else to do with them.

"It was a bit weird. More awkward than weird, really." She could tell he was trying to be friendly with her after that uncomfortable evening in the classroom. His efforts were endearing, she had to admit.

"Wanna have a go? I've been itching to duel you all night. We've got a some time before we have to be in bed." His eyes were mischievous. "I promise to go easy on you."

Hermione glanced at her watch. Yes, she had time to Stun Draco before bed.

"Alright," she agreed.

"Really? That's it? Honestly, Granger, I thought I'd have to beg you." She grabbed some pillows and laid them out behind Malfoy before taking up position opposite him.

"Don't forget yours. I wouldn't want to hurt your pretty head." He made to grab a few cushions for her.

"That won't be necessary, I can assure you." She brandished her wand.

"Cocky little thing, aren't you? Alright then, let's go." He held out his wand as well. They bowed to each other, never breaking eye contact.

" _Stupefy!,"_ Hermione yelled, flicking her wrist with precision. Draco fell stunned to the floor, landing on the pillows she'd laid out for him. She smirked. He may be talented, but he'd have to work harder to out duel her. She walked over to the spot where he lay.

" _Renervate_." She waved her wand over him, his eyes opening abruptly.

"Bloody hell, woman! You didn't give me a chance!"

"I thought you wanted to duel, Malfoy. Next time, don't take me so lightly." She grinned. He was still in shock at losing to her, the expression on his usually smug face gave him away.

"Don't worry, I'll never underestimate you again." He winked at her. "We better get going. Don't want to upset McGonagall now, do we?"

They collected the pillows and stashed them in a broom closet in the Entrance Hall. Hermione used her wand to replace the long tables to their proper positions. Together they turned to leave, Draco casually throwing his arm over her shoulders. She let it rest there, enjoying the comfort it provided. She looked at him quickly, trying to steal a glance without his notice. She felt that familiar fluttering in her stomach again. It was going to be tough to stay sensible with him, especially in these moments alone. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. She had to draw the line with herself. As much as she needed a distraction from Ron, she wasn't willing to jeopardize her integrity, even if it seemed that Malfoy had changed. When it was just the two of them, and Draco wasn't trying to stick his tongue down her throat, it was almost as if they were, dare she say it, _friends._ She couldn't act on her desires if she wanted that to continue to develop. Draco Malfoy was off limits.


	6. Chapter 6: Trouble

**This chapter is rated M, for sexually graphic content and foul language.**

 **I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, they belong to JK Rowling.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Between classes, homework, and the Dueling Club, Hermione found that time was slipping away from her. She hadn't contacted Ron again, as he'd requested, and she'd yet to hear from him. Even if she did, she wasn't sure how she would react. Ron was never one for apologies. He could be very pigheaded when he was angry, especially when he was wrong. She hoped he'd come around eventually, but she wasn't going to worry about it until he did. There was too much else to occupy her mind to waste time with hypothetical scenarios.

Draco had been on his best behavior with her. They'd been alone many times over the preceding weeks and not once had he tried to kiss her again. Sure, he flirted with her, but nothing more. She had begun to enjoy his company outside of the classroom as well. He was funny, which she'd never noticed before as most of his comments had been at her expense. After his pride had healed, he had complimented her Stunning Spell, requesting that she teach him her 'secrets'. All in all, Draco Malfoy had become her fast friend.

Before long, Hermione was counting down the days til Christmas break. A notice was posted about the next Hogsmeade visit. It was scheduled for the last weekend before the holidays began. This news brightened her day immensely and she took off to find Malfoy, with the intentions of extending an invitation. She was able to locate him in the Great Hall at lunch. She seated herself at the Gryffindor table, making sure to select a seat that faced his. Catching his eye, she gave him a pointed look. He nodded, understanding that she wanted to speak to him. With so many eyes in the Great Hall, people were bound to notice them if they were openly conversing. Gryffindors and Slytherins did not mingle with each other. It was an unwritten rule. She finished her fish and chips and made her way to the Entrance Hall. Malfoy followed suit.

"Hey," she greeted, "Did you see the notice board?"

He nodded, "Are you inviting me to Hogsmeade with you? Is this a date? What should I wear?" She blushed before she spoke again.

"Your normal clothes will be sufficient. And _no_ , it is _not_ a date. Would you like to go?" Hermione crossed her fingers in her robes.

"I'll have to check my calendar, Granger." She pushed him playfully. "Just a joke, just a joke. Of course I'll go. I can't deny you such exemplary company."

It was a grey sort of day. The sky was clouded, there was a layer of dirty snow on the ground, and a dense fog was hanging over the village. Hermione opened the door to the Hog's Head Tavern, grateful to escape the elements outside. She scanned the room. The tables were all worn from overuse and carved with initials from patrons over the years. None of the chairs matched and the whole place seemed to be covered in dust. It was never as crowded here as it was at the Three Broomsticks. Hogwarts students rarely ventured in due to the shady crowd that the bar attracted. Hermione had selected it for that very reason. She waved at the barman, Aberforth. He was Professor Dumbledore's brother and had come to their aid the previous year. She ordered herself a butterbeer and found a seat in a dark corner, close to the fire.

Draco entered the bar, his scarf covering the lower half of his face. He unravelled it casually as he searched the room for her. Spotting her, he ordered himself a fire whiskey, neat, and made himself comfortable in the chair adjacent to hers.

"Cheers, Granger," he said as he clinked his glass against her bottle. He tilted his back, consuming an impressive amount of the liquid within. He replaced the drink upon the table, one finger tapping the rim absently. "Any plans for Christmas break? Going to snog the Weasel under some mistletoe?"

Hermione finished her drink before she said, "Actually, Ron has asked me not to contact him." She smiled at him weakly. His face changed from a look of shock to disgust.

"He's pathetic, Hermione. No wizard in their right mind could treat you like that." He placed a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"Well, that's just it. He's not in his right mind. After Fred died, he changed. He blames me."

"How's he figure?"

"He says if he hadn't been kissing me, he'd have been there with Fred." Draco looked at her incredulously.

"He's mental. I'm getting you another drink." He returned moments later with two butterbeers and two fire whiskeys. He put one in her hand and raised his own. "Forget about Weasley. Let's just have fun, Granger. When's the last time you had a bit of fun?" She decided to do exactly that.

"You're right, absolutely right. You know what I want to do?" He looked at her inquisitively over the top of his glass.

"I'm intrigued. What would you like to do?"

"I want to break the rules." She gave him a saucy smirk as she turned up her glass, polishing off the whiskey. It went straight to her head. She felt her problems melting away. Draco let out a snort, choking on his butterbeer.

"Dost mine ears deceive me? Miss Goody Two-Shoes Granger wants to break the rules? I shan't believe it." He put the back of his hand to his forehead, pretending to faint as he slouched over the back of his chair.

"Haha, very funny. I mean it. It's the holidays, there's no classes. For once, I just want to do what _I want to do_."

"Cheers to that." They proceeded to get perfectly plastered in the dingy bar, in the middle of the afternoon.

After her third drink, Hermione decided she'd had enough. All of her problems had seemed to disappear, she was laughing loudly at a story Draco was telling her, and her cheeks hurt from smiling. She felt content and a bit bold. Glancing outside, she noticed the sunshine creeping away.

"Draco," she began, slightly slurring, "I wanna show you something." She grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the door.

They walked down the street to Honeydukes. It was noisy, the sound pouring out with the lights from the shop as the door creaked open. There were still a number of students bustling around, purchasing sweets for the coming holiday. She lead him stealthily towards a door behind the counter.

"Hermione, what are you doing?" He was staring at her in wonder.

"Shhhhh. Shhhhhh. Jus' c'mon." He followed her down the dark stairwell.

" _Lumos._ " She muttered, lighting up the cellar. Boxes of candy lined the walls and covered the floors. She slid a large box of Jelly Slugs to the side, revealing a very well hidden trapdoor. Malfoy glanced at her, impressed. She lead the way with her wand into the tunnel below, shutting them in.

"Wow, Hermione. How'd you know about this?"

"I have my ways," she said secretively. The two walked, hand in hand, down the dark passage. Suddenly she stopped.

"Draco," she whispered.

"Yes, Hermione?," he whispered back.

"I'm going to kiss you." And she did, pressing her body against his furiously. He returned the kiss with the same vigor, raking his hands up her thighs, her back, her stomach, her breasts. She grabbed a hold of his hair pulling him still closer. His mouth had found her neck, his hot breath brushing her ear. He was whispering something, she couldn't understand.

"What?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"I want to fuck you so bad." He crammed his mouth over hers, silencing her, his tongue exploring inside her mouth. He felt so good. He began unbuttoning her jeans. She heard the zipper, felt her pants slide down. He was touching her. She began to shiver, releasing a soft, uncontrollable moan. She was overcome with a savage desire. She needed more of him, all of him. He was looking directly into her eyes, as if asking permission. His fingers slipped inside of her, moving in and out, slowly but deep.

He lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her standing in just her underclothes, the rest tossed haphazardly to the side . He looked at her for a moment before rushing to her again, kissing down her body. She could feel his mouth against her, her panties pushed to the side so he could slide his tongue between her lower lips, tasting her.

He stood back, undoing his own pants, allowing them to fall to the ground, and removed his shirt. Hermione was leaning with her back against the wall, her breathing staggered. He reached into his boxers, pulling out his hard cock, stroking it.

All of a sudden, her wits came rushing back to her. What was she doing? She had never done this before, and here she was, in a dark tunnel, half-naked, with _Draco Malfoy_? He was progressing towards her. She knew what she had to do.

"Draco… I think we should stop." He stared at her. He shook his head back and forth, not understanding.

"What?"

"I'm sorry…" She really was. This was the second time she'd pursued him, only to turn him away.

"You have to be fucking kidding me." He grabbed her hand, placing it around his throbbing member. "You're telling me that you don't want this?" He was whispering, his face so close to hers that their noses brushed.

She was a little scared of him. He'd never spoken so angrily to her before. He released her hand and turned, hurriedly dressing himself. She did the same, her eyes on his back the whole time.

Picking her wand back up, which she had dropped at some point in the heat of the moment, she turned to Draco. He was standing there, sullenly.

"We're almost back. Just a bit further now." He followed her, silent.

It felt like an eternity, but finally they reached the tunnel. Crawling up first, Hermione reached the statue of the one eyed witch and opened her hump just a crack. She listening attentively, scanning the corridor for any sign of movement. Satisfied she opened it the rest of the way so they could both climb out.

It was awkward standing there, not looking at each other. Hermione was embarrassed. She opened her mouth to apologize again, but as she did so Draco turned away, walking briskly towards the dungeons. She stared after him, mouth agape. She was ashamed.

* * *

 _ **(Draco)**_

Draco was seated on the sofa by the fire, fuming, a bottle of whiskey in hand. He had left Hermione standing dumbstruck in the corridor by the statue of that hideous witch with the hump. _She_ had come onto _him_. That's all he could think. Not that he hadn't planned on making a move. Once he watched her toss that whiskey back like a pro, he thought for sure he'd be successful. Then she started talking about secrets and pulling him around… He shook his head, for what felt like the thousandth time.

He knew she wanted him. She couldn't deny it. He'd felt how wet she was when his fingers were inside of her. He told her he wanted to fuck her and what did she do? Started tugging on him, pleading for more. He had heard the moan escape from that hot, little mouth. She wanted him. He had been so close. _So close_.

There was no explanation for the chain of events. He knew he was better than Weasley, beyond a doubt. That clumsy fool wouldn't know what to do with a naked woman if she hopped on top of his cock. Then it clicked.

 _She was a virgin._

A twisted grin spread across Draco's face. If anyone had been watching, they'd have thought him mental. He laughed out loud, tossing his head back in mirth. This changed everything. This would take finesse. He leaned back, swigging from the bottle in his hand, and slowly fell asleep, a plan formulating in his mind.


	7. Chapter 7: Intervention

**Chapter 7**

Christmas break had begun, the castle was empty, and yet Hermione had seen neither hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy. She'd thought he may avoid her initially, but after a week passed with no sign of him, Hermione began to worry. She'd been chastising herself for her actions almost constantly, knowing that his silence was due to her own transgressions. She couldn't blame him for avoiding her. She'd been fickle and cruel, in her opinion, and she looked forward to the moment she'd be able to explain herself in earnest.

Another day had slipped away from her as she pushed around some peas on her plate. Her eyes kept casting toward the Slytherin table, empty as it had been each meal previously. It was Christmas eve and she felt lonelier than ever. She knew Draco was alone as well in his dormitory. He'd been through as much as she in the previous years. The thought of him spending the holidays by himself spurned Hermione to her next action.

She left the Great Hall, a napkin full of cookies in hand, and strode determinedly towards the dungeons. She knew the stone wall that guarded the entrance to the dorms but the password she would have to guess.

"Pure blood." Nothing happened.

"Salazar." She was really grasping at straws here, she thought. Rattling away, she listed as many Slytherin references as she could think of but her efforts were fruitless.

" _Bloody hell_ ," she uttered, frustrated with her futile attempts. She heard a noise, and glanced at the wall. It was opening.

Impressed with herself and a little surprised, she entered into the hallway that lead to the common room, a place that she'd always been curious about but had never laid eyes upon.

It was definitely not as cozy as Gryffindor's, she admitted, but there was a dark elegance to it. A mysterious green glow lit up the stone room. There were high-backed armchairs, black leather sofas, and a formidable fireplace. Right in front of this fire, on a sofa, with his legs flopped over the arm, was Draco. She sucked in a breath as her stomach dropped to her toes and her heart beat out of her chest. She could feel her face burning, and had begun regretting this decision.

She took a few steps toward him. He still hadn't noticed her presence.

Coming around the front of the sofa, she began to smell a pungent odor, a rancid mix of sweat and alcohol. The floor was littered with empty bottles of fire whiskey, dirty plates, and leftover food particles.

Draco was asleep, or passed out more likely, clutching a bottle in one hand. His hair was matted, his clothes stained and crumpled. She could make out dark circles around his eyes and his skin was sallow. It was hard to believe the scene that she was bearing witness to.

She was lost in thought, analyzing the situation, deciding what her next move would be and staring vacantly at the body in front of her. Hermione was still fighting for resolve when she noticed a pair of cold gray eyes locked on hers. Draco was awake and staring daggers at her. She felt a rush of fear wash over her body as she instantly regretted every decision that had lead her to this point.

"How the _bloody hell_ did you get in here, Granger?!" The irony was not lost on her, but now was not the time. He had sat up, bottle still in hand, a few crumbs rolling off of his chest. His sallow cheeks had turned scarlet.

"Draco…" she began. She didn't know what question to ask first, feeling responsible for the state in which she'd found him.

"Don't you dare sit there judging me, Granger. I know that pitiful look of yours all too well." His words were cutting into her. She could feel her eyes watering, but she held back her tears. This was not the time.

"I'm not here to judge you. I was worried. I hadn't seen you all week and…"

"What do you care where I've been? Who am I to you?"

"You're my friend," she said weakly.

"Oh yeah, some friend you are. Toying with me when it's convenient for you."

"That's why I'm here. I wanted to explain everything. I brought you cookies." She held up the napkin.

He looked at her, the cookies in her hand. She could see the cogs in his mind turning.

"Give me the cookies." She handed them to him in silence. He gazed around at the mess that he'd obviously been living in for the passed seven days. He bit his lip, looked up at her, and slid over on the couch, patting the cushion next to him.

She wiped a few crumbs away and took a seat beside him. He passed her a cookie. They both looked into the fire.

"Is this what you do when you're alone?," she inquired serenely. He gazed down into the amber liquid in the bottle he was still holding. He held it up, swirling it around, lost in thought.

"It's the only way I can live with myself." He pulled the cork out with his teeth, taking a swig.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"I think _you_ need to do some talking, then we can analyze my psychological deterioration." She nodded, snatched the bottle away from him, sipped it herself, and placed it on the other side of the sofa, out of his reach.

"Well… you see it's complicated, isn't it? I think the most prominent hurdle I have to overcome is trust. I don't trust you." She gave him a sidelong glance, evaluating his emotions. His face remained passive. She continued.

"You have two sides. I see them both. Sometimes, when you flirt with me, I think you're just using me. It's fun and all, but it doesn't seem genuine. Then there are these... _moments_. Like in the Dueling Club, when you're teaching a student or in class when you're focused on your work, that I look at you and think 'Wow, Malfoy has changed.' And I can't help but admire you for it."

He was looking at her now, listening intently. She licked her lips before soldiering on.

"I also wanted to apologize to you. I've been a real tease. I have all these convoluted emotions and urges that I can't seem to keep sorted. The fact is, you scare me. You fill me with reckless abandon and I lose control of myself. When you kiss me…" She shook her head. She didn't want to continue down this road, for fear that she would reveal too much about herself.

"When I kiss you what?" She could see the yearning, trapped behind his irises.

"I always want more. I'm insatiable."

"So why do you stop me?" She didn't want to, she thought to herself. That was the problem.

"I assumed you'd guessed at why. Unlike you, I have a...lack of experience." Her cheeks flushed. He nodded, but didn't speak.

"Can I ask you something?" He looked at her, nodding again, allowing her to continue. "Why are you doing this to yourself?" She motioned at the filth that surrounded them. He took his time answering her.

"Because I don't know how else to handle it."

"Handle what exactly?"

"Everything Hermione, ok? Every day, I have to live with the choices I've made. People died because of me. I was a _coward_. I'm still a coward. There's a reason I'm in Slytherin. When push comes to shove, I always save myself first. I'm not like you and your perfect friends. I don't view the world through rose tinted glasses. I wasn't one of the good guys, remember? Life isn't easy for me."

"You were young, Draco. Your family was in danger. You did things because you had to. Believe me, I'm not brave. I just make choices because they're right, not because they're easy."

"Spare me the lecture on moral compasses, Granger. Mine's fucked."

"...who did you kill?," she let the words slip out of her mouth, regretting them instantaneously. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her. He looked at her, in awe of her audacity.

"Dumbledore. It wasn't my wand, but it was my doing." He wouldn't look at her. " _I'm_ the one who fixed the vanishing cabinet. _I'm_ the one who allowed Death eaters into Hogwarts. He'd offered me safety, right before he.." He trailed off at this point, eyes misted over. He cleared his throat and continued. "Then Snape showed up, and the Death Eaters were egging me on. I knew if I couldn't do it, Snape would. I could have stopped him. I _should_ have stopped him. Then, there was a flash of green light, and it was too late." He finished his story in a hushed voice, his eyes focused on the floor.

"Draco… Can I tell you something? I think, if you knew the whole story, you'd know, as I do, that there was nothing you could have done to change the outcome."

"I doubt that th-"

"No, you listen to me Draco Malfoy. Dumbledore was _dying_. He'd known it for months. _And_ Snape was always on _our_ side. Maybe not in the beginning, before the first war, but definitely all through the last few years. He told Dumbledore what You-Know-Who asked you to do, and requested that Snape be the one to do it. He didn't want you to live with his murder on your shoulders for the rest of your life. So you've got to stop destroying yourself. Otherwise, all of that effort was for nothing."

He had been watching her mouth move as the last few words tumbled off of her tongue. His brows were furrowed, trying to work out everything she'd just told him.

"Really?"  
"Yes, really," she told him, warmly. He laid his head back, stretching his arms above him. It was hard to tell, but she thought he looked lighter, a burden had been lifted.

"I smell awful. How have you been sitting here? I can barely stand myself." A grin slithered across his face. She couldn't help but return it.

"It's been a real inconvenience. But sometimes you have to do what's right, even if it's not easy." He laughed at her witty retort.

"Stay here. I'm going to shower. Just… don't leave, ok?" She agreed, staring at his back as he collected his toiletries and headed for the bathrooms. This had been a strange turn of events.

* * *

 _ **(Draco)**_

The hot water washed over his face, cleansing him of the layer of grime that was caked onto his skin. He'd spent the last week imbibing on the sofa by the fire. His plan had been to avoid Hermione all holiday, knowing that she'd take note of his absence. He'd never intended for her to stumble upon him in that state. Draco was embarrassed to have been caught in such a vulnerable place, surrounded by filth. He'd lashed out at her, his anger taking control of him, wishing she'd found him in literally any other position.

But she hadn't judged him. That's what was really unnerving him. She'd...consoled him. And all those things she'd said, about Snape, about Dumbledore. It had changed his perspective. He'd been blaming himself for so long, been alone for so long. He wasn't the kind of person to let others get close to him. He lacked faith, in others and in himself.

Draco turned off the water, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. Using his hand, he wiped the condensation from the mirror. He looked down at the red mark on his left arm, then up to his reflection. Maybe… maybe his past actions didn't define the person he was, or at least could be.

He reentered the dormitory. There she was, Hermione, seated on the sofa. She'd cleaned up the evidence of his week long binge. A cookie was in her hand, half eaten, and she was reading a book. Her hair, usually wild and strong-willed, was pulled away from her face in a loose braid. Her face was natural, free of make-up. She turned, sensing his presence. Her warm brown eyes were flecked with gold.

"You look better."

"I feel better. Thanks for staying." He sat down on the floor, legs sprawled out in front of him, leaning back onto the sofa for support. "What do you say to a nice, wholesome Christmas Eve, Granger?" She giggled at this, nodding her head yes.

The two snuck down to the kitchens for supplies. Eggnog, more cookies, some meat pies, and a very sticky piece of cake were all packed up by the elves in the kitchen for them. The two feasted on their spoils in front of the fire while playing a game of Wizard's Chess. He noticed how she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated.

"You play well," he remarked.

"Do I? Ron taught me. He's so good though, I never knew if I was losing because of my own inexperience or his expertise." That was the first time she'd mentioned Ron to him in months. He noted the tinge of jealousy that he felt at the sound of the Weasel's name. She looked at him a bit uncomfortably afterwards, regretting her previous comment.

"I don't know what you see in him, Hermione." There. He'd said it.

"It's complicated."

"It always is with you women." She gave him a scathing look.

"It's not like it's easy to explain attraction. It's just… a feeling you get when you're with someone. It's inexplainable."

"And you get that with Weasley?" He wanted her to say no.

"I do. Or I did. When we kissed..." Draco was overcome with a feral desire to break everything in sight. "...there was so much _passion_ , so many years of longing built up between us. I'd never been happier. But now, I wonder if it was all because of the heat of the moment. We'd just destroyed a horcrux. We were in the middle of battle, unsure of whether we'd live or die. I think about it all the time. It's been tearing me apart." He couldn't stop looking at her. She was sitting there, holding back tears, more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her.

Leaning in, he used his thumb to wipe a stray tear from her porcelain cheek. Being this close to her was as intoxicating as the whiskey that he'd come to rely on. Her pink lips, parted slightly, had him entranced. He felt out of control of his own body as he leaned in, gently brushing her lips with his own. He pulled back to look into her eyes. All the scheming, all the misgivings, every horrible thing he'd ever thought about her was fading away the longer he looked at her innocent face.

"Hermione."

"Yes, Draco?"

"I'm going to kiss you."

He pressed his lips to hers and this time, she didn't push him away.


	8. Chapter 8: Christmas Day

**So, at this point, Draco has had an epiphany. He's realized that the feelings he's had for Hermione are not what he thought, and has fallen for her. Bare in mind, people do not change over night. And Draco, although trying to turn a new leaf, still has a long way to go.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Hermione woke up in the late morning on Christmas day. The sun was casting a brilliant glow onto her face where her head lay on the pillow. There was a heap of presents at the end of her bed, but the only thing on her mind was the exploits of the previous evening. She lay a finger on her lip, remembering the feeling of Draco's mouth against hers. There was something different about it. It wasn't the kind of carnal kissing they had been sharing. It was sweet, wistful. It was not the kind of kiss she'd ever thought to receive from Draco Malfoy.

She grabbed the nearest present, neatly unwrapping the paper and setting it to the side. She continued like this, opening each gift and laying them in an orderly line on top of her four poster. Her parents had sent her gold with a very lovely note. Mrs. Weasley had sent her the traditional holiday sweater (Scarlet and gold striped) and some homemade fudge. Harry and Ginny had both sent her a box of chocolate frogs, proving how similar they were without even trying. She had one gift left to open and Hermione could already tell from the shape and weight that it was a book. Glancing at the tag, her mouth fell open. It was from Ron.

This time, she tore the paper off as quickly as she could. It was an old book, the pages yellowed. She held it to her nose, breathing in one of her favorite scents. The title was embossed in flaky gold on the spine. _Pride and Prejudice_ by Jane Austen. She hurriedly flipped it open, running her finger down the page until she found the copyright. It was an 1894 first edition. She couldn't believe it. She made mention to this in passing, _maybe_ one time. And he'd remembered. It was the most thoughtful gift she'd ever received. And it must have cost quite a bit of money.

There was no note attached with it which left Hermione in a swirl of trepidation. She knew this was an apology, but to what extent? Had Ron forgiven her and realized the error in his judgement? She certainly adored his gift. She could just picture him in a Muggle antique shop, fumbling with his wallet. She would have been giddy with excitement had she not experienced that game changing kiss with Draco. _But she had experienced it_. And it changed everything.

Hermione entered the Great Hall for Christmas lunch. There was one long table in the center as there were so few students left at the school during holiday. Seated already were Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Vector. Madame Pince was seated next to the new caretaker, Mrs. Figg. Mrs. Figg was leaning over her chair, stroking the head of an orange tabby. Hermione recalled the old caretaker Mr. Filch and his proclivity for cats, or a particular cat. She marveled at the paradox. Filch had left his position after the battle last year. Nobody tried to stop him.

Farther along the table there were a handful of students. Three fourth year Hufflepuffs were seated together, laughing at a joke one had told. Hermione felt a pang of nostalgia for the days when that was her with Ron and Harry. Another last, she thought to herself. It's funny how one tends to take moments like these for granted. She took a seat at the far end of the table, leaving the chair next to hers open. Draco appeared, moments after her arrival and took the seat beside her. McGonagall raised her eyebrows a bit at this but did not mention it. Hermione was thankful for that.

"Happy Christmas, Granger." He scooted his chair in, keeping a comfortable distance from her but sitting close enough for her to feel the heat from his body.

"Happy Christmas, Malfoy." She returned. She could feel little flutterings in her abdomen again.

"I've got a gift for you." This was a surprise. She had been so absorbed in herself and where her affections lie that she hadn't thought to get Draco a gift. She was dreadful.

"Stop making that face, you look ridiculous." She had been grimacing outwardly as well as inwardly apparently.

"I didn't get you anything." She admitted.

"I didn't expect you to. Just come with me back to my common room afterwards." She agreed, curious about what lied in store for her.

Professor McGonagall rose from her seat, a chalice of red wine in hand, motioning for the rest to follow her action.

"To a happy Christmas, in a safe new world. It has been quite an extraordinary ride and I'm grateful to be seated here, at Hogwarts, with all of you. Cheers." She sipped from her goblet and the rest followed suit.

The feast appeared, right on schedule. There were fat roasted turkeys, cranberry sauce, all manner of potato, thick brown gravy in silver boats, and plenty of Christmas crackers to go around. She and Draco shared one, pulling it apart with a loud bang, engulfing them in a cloud of blue smoke. A few live mice had appeared on the table and they watched as they scurried away, one stopping to nick a few crumbs from the table cloth.

All in all, Hermione had had a wonderful Christmas. She was fully content and drowsy from the rich foods. Malfoy motioned to the doors. She had quite forgotten about his gift. She nodded her agreement and the two left together for the Slytherin dungeons.

Before they walked through the hallway that would lead them into the common room, Malfoy stopped.

"Alright, now I'm going to cover your eyes. Don't you dare peek, Granger." She allowed him to place his hands around her head and lead her into the room, relying on him for her sight.

"Ready?," he inquired.

"Yes!"

He pulled his hands away to reveal an enchanted ice skating rink. Her eyes widened and she turned to him, a childlike glow lighting up her face.

"This is wonderful! And very lovely magic, I might add. How did you-"  
"Stop that, Granger. You'll spoil the moment." He handed her a pair of white skates. She watched him sit to pull a matching pair onto his own feet. She couldn't help but smile at him.

The two spent the afternoon on the ice. She'd never been very good and spent an embarrassing amount of time on her bottom. He was always there to help her to her feet. After the tenth occurrence, Draco took her hand and lead her around the ring at his side.

"Honestly Granger, if I'd have known how terrible you were, I might have reconsidered." He flashed a grin, showing his teeth. She never fell again, and he never let go of her hand.

When they were both pleasantly exhausted, they cozied up on the sofa by the fire, warm mugs of hot chocolate in hand.

"So how was your Christmas?" She looked up at him, awaiting his response.

"Beautiful." She blushed at his answer. He had a sly look on his face. Those silly butterflies were back again.

"Ron sent me a gift." His face altered, only slightly but perceptively. "But there was no card, no note. Just this...book."

"A book? Not very romantic," he replied bitterly.

"Well… it is a rather special book. One that I've loved since childhood. I don't know what to think about it though. How to feel about it…"

"If Weasley really cared, he wouldn't have put you on the shelf like that for you to wait till he was ready to play again." She mulled this over. She doubted that were true. She'd known Ron for a long time and knew he could be ridiculous. Draco was watching her face in consternation. "Don't you dare tell me you don't feel what I feel, Hermione."

She did feel something for Draco. He challenged her in a way she'd never experienced. He made her feel bold, carefree. But there was still a small part of her logical heart that was holding her back. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I don't know what to feel," she whispered, honestly. He pulled away from her words. His face was a mix of anger and disbelief.

"Are you serious, Hermione? You _don't know_?" Exasperated, he stood up, pacing in front of the hearth.

"It's not as simple as you say."

"No, it is. _You_ are overthinking it. That's the problem." He pointed a finger at her for emphasis.

"Well, excuse me for being rational."

"What we have isn't rational! _You don't want rational_. Rational is boring and pathetic and probably a terrible kisser." He swooped in, grabbing her face with both his hands, staring deep into her eyes. "Say I'm what you want," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. She wanted desperately to say it. He was right. She had always ruled her life and emotions with logical thinking. Ron was the logical choice. He was safe. Draco was… everything she wasn't.

"You're what I want," she managed, her voice barely audible. His mouth met hers with such vigor that their teeth knocked, but neither seemed to care. He pulled her body on top of his, his fingers wrapped up in her hair. Yes, she thought, this is what she wanted.

Their hands explored each other, slowly, tentatively. She could feel the urgency behind his kisses and hear the longing in his staggered breaths. He carefully lifted her arms, peeling her shirt away from her torso. His eyes were drinking her in.

"Say it again, Hermione." His sultry voice sent a wave of desire crashing through her core.

"You're what I want."

Picking her up, their lips still locked, he carried her into his dormitory, laying her gently upon his bed. He had an arm on either side of her, encompassing her. He bent his arms at the elbows, leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, both cheeks, and finally on her lips again. She pulled him into her, hungry for more.

Their pelvises moved together, thrusting into each other, her legs wrapped around his hips. She had pulled off his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his bare skin next to hers. His hands cupped her breasts, fingers occasionally brushing against her nipples.

Before she knew what was happening, they were both sitting on the bed, entirely naked. She felt self conscious. Her lack of experience was catching up with her. She'd also never been naked in front a man in her life and the fact that it was Draco Malfoy seated across from her was jarring. Her mind urged her to come to her senses. She began to speak, opening her mouth in protest, when Draco spoke first.

"I can see your mind working behind your eyes, Granger." She liked the way he called her that still. It was playful and a bit teasing.

"I've never taken my clothes off in front of anyone before," she admitted. He looked mildly surprised.

"I'm honored you chose me." She'd had her arms crossed on her chest and he tugged them away. She could feel his eyes roaming over her exposed chest. She was panicking now, her heart hammering away.

"Let this happen, Hermione," he coaxed, his hands running up her inner thighs, "Stop thinking so much." His fingers had reached further still, grazing against her, tempting her. She did want this but it was still terrifying.

He stretched her legs out and placed a hand behind her, slowly easing her onto the mattress. Then he climbed on top of her. She could feel her limbs shaking, grasping the full extent of what was about to happen.

She could feel how hard he was as he pressed against her, sliding back and forth. He showered her neck with kisses. One of his hands grabbed onto her thigh and looped it around his arm as he bared down onto her, making room for him to enter.

He stared directly at her as he slowly eased inside. Oh my, Hermione thought. This is actually happening. She hadn't know what to expect but the sensation was overpowering her. As he pushed still deeper, she let out a small yelp of pain. He stopped, remaining inside of her.

"Are you ok?" She didn't know, if she was completely honest with herself.

"I don't know," she said to him, deciding to be just as honest with him.

He rolled off of her to lay on his stomach, his face next to hers. She remained on her back, unsure of what to say. He pulled on his boxers, handing her her clothes. She dressed herself quickly, unsure of how to voice her doubts.

"It's ok, Hermione." She wasn't sure if it was. She had just had sex (sort of) for the first time with Draco Malfoy. They'd hated each other longer than they'd liked each other. And here she was, naked, in the Slytherin dorms, questioning her serious lack of judgement.

Continuing on the path of honesty, Hermione began, "I don't know if we should be doing this."

"I told you, it's ok. We don't have to have sex. I'm fine with that."

"No, I mean… _this._ Like you and me," she motioned between them. "Maybe we should have remained friends, nothing more."

"Are you kidding me right now? You think we should be just...just _friends_? You're bloody mental if you think that will ever work. I seem to remember when we were 'just friends' and you couldn't keep your bloody hands off of me." He had her there.

"Draco. This is hard for me. As much as I want you…"

"You still don't trust me," he finished for her. She shook her head.

"I think you should leave," he said coldly.

"Draco, no wait, let's talk. Can we just talk-," she stammered.

"No, I think you've said enough." He'd grabbed ahold of her arm and, directing her to the exit. She allowed him to lead her, begging him to listen the whole way out. His face never changed, remaining stoic until the door closed in her face, his apathetic eyes never meeting hers.

* * *

 _ **(Draco)**_

Draco was livid as he sat alone, again, in front of the fire. He'd tossed back his first drink with ease and was already well into his second. The familiar numbing sensation was just out of his reach. He wanted it to envelop him, rid him of her memory even if it was only for the evening. He could still taste her in his mouth, smell her on his fingers. She was surrounding him and she wasn't even there.

The worst part about everything was that up until Christmas eve, she would have been right not to trust him. Even through his own pain, he had to admire her for seeing through his facade to the despicable person he had the capability of being. How he'd wanted to plow into her! He had envisioned himself riding her, wild with passion, with her screaming out his name. But he didn't. He restrained himself, showing her a patience that he didn't know he had. _She made him a better person._

He continued to consume the contents of his bottle until he was good and drunk. Then he opened another and drank some more. He paced around the common room, talking wildly to himself. Draco was in a dark place, consumed with thoughts of Hermione. His emotions were running rampant. One moment he hated her for making him feel like a fool. The next he was overcome with jealousy, picturing her run back into Weasel's arms. Above all, though, he felt abominable for the way he'd treated her. Her eyes, full of hurt, were searching his face as he pushed her out of the doorway. He couldn't look at her though, afraid of the things he might say.

The last thing he remembered, as he lay upon the cold stone floor, was her voice, whispering to him.

' _You're what I want.'_

' _You're what I want._ '

He closed his eyes, her words repeating over and over until they lulled him into a state of unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N The beginning of this chapter takes place inside of Draco's head. I'm struggling a little bit with writer's block, but I'm slowly breaking through so bare with me! I know where I want this story to end, I just need to figure out a plan to get there.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

His father and mother were lying next to him on the floor, twisting in anguish, their bodies contorting, as the Dark Lord stood over them.

" _Crucio_!," came the cold voice that would perpetually send a chill down his spine. Curdling screams echoed throughout the vast room, suffocating Draco. He wanted to run, abandon his family as he'd abandoned all hope. A pair of red, snake-like eyes locked onto his and a mutinous smile played across the lips of the one he'd come to fear the most. He pushed his body against the wall, cringing before his master, pleading to be spared.

" _Crucio!,"_ the voice shouted, but Draco barely registered it as jolts of pain wracked every bone in his body, white hot and burning his insides. He just wanted to die, anything to rid him of this agony. He heard pleas from far away, his mother begging the Dark Lord to spare him.

"Pity is for the weak, Narcissa."

The scene became foggy, fading away.

Staring into a mirror, his face unrecognizable; ashen and thin, dark circles surrounding his lifeless eyes. He looked desperate. He _was_ desperate. He had to kill Albus Dumbledore. There was no other way. Either he died or his whole family would be murdered. He'd never be able to fix the vanishing cabinet. He'd grown desperate, almost wanting to be caught. He slapped himself, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. There was no hope, no choices, and almost no time.

A pair of sparkling blue eyes were gazing deeply into his. The sun was setting atop the astronomy tower, his wand raised, poised to attack. The moment had come, it was his call to action.

"Draco, years ago I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. _Let me help you_ ," said the soothing voice of Albus Dumbledore."

"I don't want your help! Don't you understand, if I don't kill you, _he will kill me_!," Draco wailed back, his voice breaking.

"I can help you, let me help you. We can protect you. You don't want to start down this path."

Draco hesitated, unable to make a sound, his voice trapped in his throat. _I'm a coward_ , he thought.

Snape entered. There was a flash of green light, a lifeless body with dead eyes falling to the ground. Draco envied it as he was pulled away into the night.

Back at Malfoy Manor. Hermione was howling in pain. His aunt was questioning her, dragging her cursed knife across the muggle-born's pale arm. A pool of dark blood was forming. She was screaming, head tossing back and forth. Bella used the Cruciatus curse over and over. Still Hermione refused to speak. Her face was covered in tears and her own blood, but there was also a look of determination behind her frightened brown eyes. _She's willing to die_ , he thought. He wanted to intervene. He couldn't let her die. Then, there was Potter, come to save the day. They escaped… the Dark Lord had been summoned… there would be more pain.

He was surrounded by fire. Crabbe and Goyle were whimpering at his side. Shelves crashing around them, smoke filling their lungs. Scrambling, frantic, they searched for an exit, climbing the piles of hidden objects. Crabbe slipped, falling directly into the Fiendfyre he created. His screams lasted mere seconds, extinguished by the flames licking his already crisping flesh. The smell of burnt skin drifted into his nostrils, a strong urge to vomit overcoming him. He'd been begging for death for so long, but now, with it knocking at the door, he didn't want it to come any closer. He didn't want to die.

* * *

"How is he?," a soft familiar voice was inquiring, somewhere near his feet. He wanted to open his eyes, but couldn't. His lids were too heavy, seemingly cemented shut. _Where am I_ , he thought. There was another pair of feet shuffling about, another voice.

"He's alive, but he was lucky we found him when we did. Another day, and he wouldn't have made it." He heard a stifled cry.

"Did he awaken at all?," the soft voice spoke again.

"No, dear, but I will inform you when he does." This voice was stiffer, more rushed than the other. It seemed ready for the soft voiced speaker to leave. _No,_ he thought _, I want her to stay._

" _Stay_ …," he heard himself say. He had tried to reach out for the speaker but found it difficult to move his arm. What was happening to him?

Silence followed his one word.

"Would it be ok if I stayed, Madame Pomfrey? Just for a bit?," the soft voice asked quietly.

"I suppose so, Miss Granger. But don't stir him or I will have to ask you to leave," Madame Pomfrey agreed curtly. He heard her steps as they walked into the distance. A warm hand grabbed his. Hermione's hand, he knew. It had been hard to make his brain work, but he knew now the soft voice was hers.

He drifted away again, his muddled mind demanding sleep.

* * *

When he awoke, he was alone. He sat up slowly, gazing around the hospital wing. Hermione was gone, her chair still pulled up to his bed. He rubbed his thumb across the palm of his hand, remembering her touch.

"Mr. Malfoy, you're awake." Madame Pomfrey had come bustling in, a potion steaming in her hand. She pushed it into his own. He drank it all in one gulp, feeling much better as the Pepper-up potion worked its magic on his body, ridding him of most of the creakiness he felt from an extended lack of movement.

"How long have I been here?," he queried.

"Three days. We found you two days after Christmas." She gave him a stern look.

"Found me? What do you mean? What happened?"

" Yes, found. You were unconscious, in your common room, covered in your own vomit."

"What?," he looked around confused. This information didn't make sense.

"Don't look so taken aback. You'd done it to yourself. Surrounded by whiskey bottles, from what I'm told. Poisoned yourself. You're lucky to be alive. If Miss Granger hadn't brought her worries to your head of house's attention, you may not be lying here," she finished, giving him a reproachful glance. She left the room, with the promise of returning with food.

He was struggling to believe what she had told him. Three days? He'd been here that long? Where was Hermione? She was _worried_ about him?

The last real thing that Draco could remember was Christmas day. He could clearly recall Hermione's words, their affects on his heart. He envisioned her face as the wall closed, dividing them even further. He recalled drinking, but not much more excessively than usual. Although, that part was a bit more fuzzy than the rest of his memories.

Madame Pomfrey returned with a tray laden with a broth-y soup and a small hunk of bread. The smell from across the room made his stomach ache.

"Eat slowly. You don't want it all coming back up again. You're going to be a bit nauseous at first. A regurgitation spell was cast on you to remove all of the toxins you decided to put into your body. The effects can be lingering." He took her advice and sipped at the soup. She was right. His stomach gurgled ominously after his first bite. He laid his spoon down and leaned back into the pillows propped up behind him.

The door to the hospital wing opened. He looked up hopefully but was instantly accosted by the stern eyes of Professor Slughorn, head of Slytherin house.

"Draco, how are you?," he asked, his voice calm.

"I'm ok I guess, a bit nauseous. But Madame Pomfrey says that's normal." He gazed into his soup. There were bits of carrots floating around that he chased with his spoon. Professor Slughorn spoke again.

"I want you to know that although I'm glad you are better, this problem is in no way solved. There will be repercussions for your actions, your parents have already been informed, and you will need to undergo counselling sessions three days a week. You will submit to random searches of your belongings, as well as a mandatory search upon your release from the hospital wing. Do you understand?" Draco nodded. "Do you have any questions?"

"Can you tell Hermione Granger I'm awake, professor?"

"A message has already been sent to Miss Granger. You should be expecting a visit from her within the hour, I believe. Eat up, boy. You're going to need your strength when she gets here, I'll forewarn you now." He stood up and exited the room, leaving Draco to his thoughts.

* * *

 _ **(Hermione)**_

The gray stone wall closed in front of her, separating her from Draco before she'd had a chance to explain herself. His mood could change so quickly. She knew she'd upset him, but the look on his face as he dragged her from his dormitory was pure hatred, maybe even disgust. She wasn't the type to cry, but she could feel a wetness on her cheeks that was out of her control. Slowly, she slumped back to Gryffindor tower, to the comfort of her four poster. She couldn't sleep, that was obvious. Her mind was racing, her heart pounding. She pulled the book that Ron sent her from her trunk and flipped it open, hoping that Miss Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy would take her away to Longbourn and Netherfield, where everything was much less complicated. He had too much pride, she too much prejudice. It just worked… On second thought, perhaps she would work on an essay for Professor Binns.

The following morning at breakfast, Malfoy was nowhere to be found. She had anticipated this, his usual fight or flight response kicking in. Avoid, avoid, avoid. That was how he dealt with things. _Typical guy_ , she thought as she nibbled on a slice of bacon.

She spent the day in the library finishing up the last bit of homework she had. Arithmancy was meticulous, occupying her mind and leaving no room for distractions. Time passed quickly.

Another day came and went, and still no sign of Draco. She began to worry about him, recalling the state she'd found him in the last time he'd holed up alone. She resolved to find Professor Slughorn after dinner to relay her concerns.

"Professor, can I talk to you?"

"Yes, what is it Miss Granger?," he said kindly, turning to face her as he passed the Gryffindor table. She stood and walked next to him, wanting to avoid prying eyes and ears.

"Well, it's about Draco Malfoy," she began, " He hasn't left his dorm for a couple of days and I'm worried about him."

"I'm sure he's just been taking his meals in his room, but it's nice of you to be concerned for his welfare." He had begun to head into his office at this point, but Hermione cut him off.

"Please, sir. He's liable to hurt himself. He was in a very dark place the last I saw him. I just need to know if he's ok." He must have heard the desperation in her voice because he allowed her to accompany him to the Slytherin dungeons a moment later.

Providing the proper password to the stone wall ( _Basilisk_ ), he requested she wait outside and continued alone into the common room, the wall sealing itself behind him. Mere seconds had passed when Slughorn's head appeared again.

"Quick Miss Granger, I need your assistance." There was a note of panic in his voice as he re-entered the hall, Hermione close on his heels.

The scene that came into view was harrowing.

Draco was lying face down on the stone floor, a puddle of vomit beneath his face, caked into his blonde hair. There were numerous empty bottles surrounding him again, but this time he didn't look like he was sleeping. He looked... _dead_. She felt frozen to the spot, words caught in her throat, her limbs full of lead. She couldn't move any closer.

"Please dear, the situation is dire!" Slughorn was turning Malfoy's corpse over to his back, his face red with the effort. Hermione snapped out of her stupor and rushed to aid her professor.

"Listen carefully," he began very seriously, "I need you to hold him up while I perform a regurgitation spell." Hermione nodded, taking hold of Malfoy's shoulders and keeping him upright, careful to stay out of range.

" _Iactare Sursus_." Draco immediately began coughing up copious amounts of brown liquid, covering the floor and the front of his robes. Hermione watched, grateful he was alive.

When he was finished, Slughorn asked Hermione to run ahead to the hospital wing and inform Madame Pomfrey of their arrival. She sprinted to the exit as Slughorn muttered _Locomotor Draco_ and Malfoy's body lifted creepily off of the ground.

She'd waited outside the room as Madame Pomfrey tended to Draco, knowing that the nurse detested onlookers while she performed her duties. Minutes drifted by at a snail's pace. Hermione played with a loose string on her robes while she leaned against the wall, impatient. Finally, the nurse's head popped out of the door.

"He's stabilized now."

"Please, can I come in? Just for a bit." She brushed passed Madame Pomfrey before she could answer.

"Well, I don't think that it will matter much. He's completely unconscious. Won't even know you're there."

"How is he?"

"He's alive," Madame Pomfrey conceded, "but he was lucky we found him when we did. Another day, and he wouldn't have made it." Hermione released an involuntary cry, covering her mouth quickly to suppress it.

"Did...did he awaken at all?," she managed to say.

"No, but I will inform you when he does." She had placed a hand onto her shoulder, firmly leading her towards the door.

" _Stay…"_ they both heard, turning to face the unconscious, pale body on the bed. The two women looked at each other for a moment.

"Would it be ok if I stayed, Madame Pomfrey? Just for a bit?" The nurse permitted this, although reluctantly and Hermione took a seat beside the bed, holding his hand in her own. She thought, although she could have been imagining it, that she felt his hand squeeze hers.

Hermione stayed with Draco for the rest of the evening, getting ushered out by Madame Pomfrey at nine o'clock. Draco hadn't moved, not since he'd uttered that single word. She'd had plenty of time to think while she sat there in the silence, envisioning the events from that evening.

She was relieved that he would be alright. That was her first thought. After that though, her emotions became a little more chaotic. She was also very angry. How could he have done this to himself? Against all odds, they had survived the darkest wizard of all time, and here Draco was throwing his life away like this? As if it didn't matter if he lived or died. How could he be so foolish, act so irresponsibly? She also felt regret mixed with guilt, blaming herself in a sense, although she knew that he was the who shouldered the real blame for his actions. She returned to Gryffindor tower that evening with a headache and a strong urge for a dreamless sleep.

Three days passed and there had been no word from the hospital wing. She spoke to Professor Slughorn privately on the afternoon of the third day. At this point the only emotion she had left was anger. It had been the most prominent initially and had eventually eaten away at the other feelings, demanding to be felt.

At dinner, Professor McGonagall approached her with a note from Madame Pomfrey. She quickly scanned the words. Malfoy was awake. She continued to eat her dinner, deciding how to proceed. She left the Great Hall with no game plan.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N- I'm so sorry it's taken so long for an update. I know I don't have a huge following, but I still want to apologize. I started a new job and also started reading** _Isolation_ **by _Bex-chan_ and I was addicted. I also really liked how she gave some song recommendations for her chapters so I thought I'd give it a shot. **

* * *

**A/N Song choice: Yesterday's Feelings- The Used**

 **Leave- Glen Hansard**

 _ **Chapter 10**_

He was sitting up against a stack of pillows when she entered through the doorway. His face was relaxed, his eyes closed. Despite the anger she'd been keeping pent up inside, she couldn't help but admire his vulnerable beauty. The door closed behind her, creaking slightly and startling him. Their eyes locked.

"Hermione…," he began, his voice raspy from lack of use. His pale eyes searched her face.

"Draco." She strode to his bed, pulling up a chair and seating herself next to him, sure to leave some distance between them. "How are you feeling?"

"Ok, I guess. I'm a bit nauseous, but Pomfrey says that's normal, considering everything…"

They both fell into a tense silence. Hermione was the first to speak again.

"How could you?" She was looking at him with measured eyes, watching his reaction. These were the only words she could muster.

"How could I what?" He was staring at the bowl in front of him, fiddling with his spoon.

"Do this to yourself, obviously!"

"What's it matter to you? I distinctly remember you saying we should just 'be friends' and that you didn't 'trust me' so why should it matter to you what I do in my free time?"

"If you would have just let me talk instead of acting like an idiot then maybe you'd have heard my explanation."

"I didn't care to hear what you had to say. In case you hadn't noticed, Hermione, I have feelings too. I know that must be _so hard_ to wrap your head around, but it's the truth. God forbid you let go for once. You've been hot and cold with me from the start, basically writing out a pros and cons list in your head every time you got too close to me. How did you expect me to react? One second you're naked in my bed, the next you want nothing to do with me. And people think I'm losing it," he scoffed, staring heatedly at her.

"Well, it was no picnic for me either." She lowered her voice and continued. "In case you'd forgotten, I hadn't ever had... _sex…_ before. And you basically threw me out after I asked you to stop! I felt awful! I still do, as a matter of fact."

"I'd hardly call what occurred between us sex, Hermione. Don't worry, you can still fuck the Weasel without feeling guilty." She was stung by these words. The animosity in the room was palpable. She could see the hate flash behind his cold eyes. He could be very cruel and degrading when he wanted to be.

"I chose you. It was hard, but I'd made up my mind. I still hadn't let go of all inhibitions yet, though I was trying. But now… I don't know what I was thinking! Even if you've changed, you still have that underlying callousness. I could never be with someone who's first instinct is to hurt me." He was shaking his head as she spoke, rolling his eyes. "You act so tough, but you're not! I wish you'd just quit with the facade! You try to look so flawless on the outside but I see right through you, Draco. You are a good person, but you're destroying yourself for things that aren't your fault." She reached for him instinctively but then thought better of it.

"Ok Hermione, _I get it_. Perfect little Granger, always fixing everyone's problems. You think you can just analyze me and tell me how to cope with my past and everything will all of a sudden be alright? That may be how it works in your cushioned life, but the rest of the world is a lot harsher than you seem to think. Not that it matters anymore because I'm no longer your fucking concern. I don't want your pity and I don't want your psychological analysis. I know I have issues, and there mine to deal with. Alone. I've had enough of your rants for one day. I'm sick of getting scolded." His face was flushed, his lip was curled and he refused to look at her anymore.

"My life is not _cushioned_. You're not the only one who has nightmares. You're not the only one who's had loss. I just don't see the point of destroying everything in my path because I'm angry at events that are out of my control. Stop acting like a child, Malfoy, and people will stop treating you like one." She stood abruptly, accepting his dismissal of her. "Get it together. Next time, I won't be there to save you."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask you to save me, did I?"

"No, you didn't. That's just who I am." And with that final sentiment, she left the room.

Hermione spent the last couple of days of the holiday in her dorm, exiting only for meals. She was ready for term to start again, so she could get back to her classes and to Dueling Club, knowing that they would take up most of her time. She hadn't heard from Draco at all, but she knew she needed to speak to him, specifically about whether or not he was going to continue teaching with her. If he did, that posed a problem, and if he did not, she would still need to find a replacement which was a problem within itself.

She spotted him for the first time at breakfast on the first day after holiday. He was sitting alone at the table as usual and avoiding eye contact. She knew this because she was purposefully staring at him to try to get his attention. He stayed seated at the table until the bell rang and quickly dodged her by joining the throng of students that stood up at the same time to leave. Futile efforts really, Hermione thought, as they had Potions together first period. When she entered the classroom however, he was seated in the back of the class next to a pretty Slytherin girl who Hermione only knew as Greengrass. She felt a flair in her stomach, watching the two interact. He was smirking at her and she was blushing and succumbing to a fit of giggles. Malfoy shot her a fiery, pointed glance before replacing his charming mask for the girl. Hermione could feel her face burning as she quickly took her seat at the front of class, anger bubbling like a hot cauldron. Parvati Patil had chosen the seat beside hers.

"So," Parvati began, "what's been going on with you and Malfoy?" Hermione looked at her, baffled. She was saved the trouble of responding however, as Professor Slughorn entered the classroom.

"Morning, morning," he said briskly, "The break never seems quite long enough, does it? Oh well, no matter. Please turn to page 186, if you will. This chapter is going to cover Healing potions. We dove into it a bit with the Wiggenweld Potion in first term, but now our studies will become much more extensive. We've got to prepare for your N.E.W.T's, you know. Anyhow, useful as healing potions may be, they can be a bit tricky. Anyone interested in becoming a healer?" A few tentative hands were in the air. "An excellent field of work, good choice ladies and gentlemen. I have taught quite a few exceptional Healers. Why, Hubert Pollingtonious was a pupil of mine! Author of _The Healer's Helpmate_ , as you may know, and still asks for my help when he's developing something new!" His chest puffed out at the mention of one of his numerous famous ex-students. Apparently he'd given up on the Slug Club this year. She'd never heard mention of it and Professor Slughorn wasn't the type to keep things quiet. "Today, we'll be starting the Blood-Replenishing potion. This will take all of your concentration, so pay close attention to the instructions. You have until the end of class to place a labelled phial on top of my desk. You may begin." There was a lot of scuffling as people retrieved ingredients from their bags and began stoking their fires. Some ingredients had to be borrowed from Slughorn's store cupboard as they weren't common in most potions. She waited for Malfoy to rise to get his supplies and she cornered him by the cabinet alone.

"I need to talk to you," she rushed. He glanced over his shoulder, winking at the Greengrass girl, then turned back to Hermione.

"I think you've said enough, Granger. As you can see, I've found a new, more... _willing_ distraction. So, if you'll excuse me." He made to push past her but she stood in his way.

"Look, do what you want. I don't care who you're snogging-"

"Oh, we've been doing more than snogging-"

"Shut up and listen for once. Are you still going to help the Dueling Club or not?" Her knotted stomach was flopping around like a fish on land. She wasn't sure which of his responses she was hoping for.

"Only if you ask nicely." He sneered at her, as if he expected her to beg.

"Forget it. Just forget it. I'll find someone else." She turned on her heels, ingredients in hand, and returned to her seat at the front of class.

By the end of the lesson, there were a lot of frustrated faces and lack luster potions. Hermione was sweaty and mentally exhausted, but proud that she had concocted the only successful batch. Parvati's had never changed from murky brown to the scarlet color it was supposed to be and she was satisfied to see that Malfoy's cauldron was smoking uncontrollably. The two girls placed their phials upon the desk and headed to lunch, both starving after such an excruciating lesson.

"So, are you going to tell me about Malfoy now?" Parvati asked, giving Hermione a sly look. Apparently she hadn't forgotten about their conversation.

"There's nothing to tell. We were friends is all, but we're not anymore," she said with a note of finality.

"Oh come on, you can tell me. I saw you at the supply cabinet. _And_ I saw the way he was flirting with Greengrass. That's not a coincidence. Who am I going to tell? All of my friends have left. You're the only person I know. And you haven't said more than two words to me all year and we live in the same dorm!" Parvati was speaking heatedly, and Hermione noticed a wetness in her eyes. She felt guilty. It's not like her and Parvati had ever been close. She'd never been on the same page as the other girls in her dorms, not having the same kind of interest in boys and clothes that they all had shared. She'd mostly avoided them. And she'd been best friends with Lavender Brown, who had hated her. But Lavender was terribly injured in the battle of Hogwarts and had never returned. Parvati's twin hadn't returned to school, choosing to start her career at the Ministry instead. Hermione decided to confide in the girl.

"Oh alright. But not here. In the dorm later. It's quite a long story." Parvati seemed satisfied with her response and left her alone to eat her fish and chips.

* * *

 **A/N Song choice: Standard Lines- Dashboard Confessional**

 _ **(Draco)**_

He watched her back as she left him alone again in the hospital wing, her bushy ponytail swishing fiercely. He'd seen the glimmer of a tear in her eyes, but she'd held it together. He respected her for that, despite the fury he had at her for the lecture she'd just delivered. Awake for a half fucking hour and she was already having a go at him. Like it wasn't her fault he'd ended up here in the first place. It was her actions that pushed him to the state she found him in.

Draco pushed his food to the side, unable to eat another bite of his cold soup. _I need a sodding drink_ , he thought to himself, knowing full well that _that_ was going to be near impossible now. He could thank Granger for that later too.

The search of his personal belongings left a disgusting taste in his mouth. Slughorn left no stone unturned, claiming all of his aged firewhiskey. It would most certainly end up in his own private stash, as Slughorn had an affinity for the refined and Draco drank nothing but the best. Never in his life had Draco had his privacy violated in such a way. His anger for Hermione was beginning to overwhelm him as he watched the contents of his drawers get dumped to the floor, yet he had no way to release any of this tension thanks to her.

No way, that is, until the rest of the Slytherins returned from holiday and his eyes fell upon the slender figure of Daphne Greengrass. She'd been friends with Parkinson when he'd been shagging her briefly, but he doubted she'd mind that little transgression of his. The Slytherin girls were competitive and he was definitely the most eligible of the Pureblood bachelors. He was sure Greengrass would view him as a prize to be won. Their eyes locked and she gave him a sassy smirk, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. She looked willing enough, Draco thought to himself smugly. Let the games begin.

Daphne was easier to coerce than he'd anticipated, which was disappointing to Draco. One of the things he'd enjoyed about Granger was the chase. As much as she'd infuriated him with all of her virtue and indecisiveness, it had driven him mad with desire. Daphne had tugged him up to his room hours after her arrival back to school. He'd been more than willing to follow, after all of the build up that Granger had left him with. Once the door to the room was shut, she'd pounced on him, her teeth clashing with his, her tongue forcing itself into his mouth. It took him by surprise at first and he'd almost pushed her away. Then his natural instincts had taken over and he returned her kisses with equal vigor. Before he knew what was happening, she'd stripped down to nothing and was lowering herself to her knees, unzipping his trousers and slipping her lips around his throbbing member. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to drift away. All he could think about was Hermione. Her innocent body lying beneath him, quivering and nervous. Her natural, unwavering beauty. That little pink mouth and those supple lips. Then he pictured her pushing him away, rejecting him. Draco's eyes shot open, angry at himself for thinking of Granger when he had Greengrass's lips wrapped around his cock. He pulled Daphne onto the bed and bent her over, entering her angrily from behind and slamming her face into the pillow. He gripped her hair and thrust hard and fast into her, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips. She let out a series of screams, that Draco found ridiculous and most likely fake, but he didn't care. This wasn't about her. He needed this release and he'd use her as long as he needed to. He pumped into her steadily until he felt himself finish. He pulled out and reached for his trousers, finished with Greengrass and hoping she'd take the hint. She lifted her face from the pillow, watching him with a smile on her face. She was obviously comfortable with herself, lying there naked in front of him. Her breasts were much bigger than Granger's, he noted. He walked over and cupped them in his hands. She was already tugging at his pants again, writhing on the bed and begging for more. Draco shrugged and removed his pants again. He wasn't the type to deny himself pleasure.

Daphne had tried to stay in his bed that night, but he'd managed to kick her out without tarnishing his chances of shagging her again later. She'd looked disappointed but he knew she'd be back. He found himself alone in bed, once again thinking of Hermione. As much as he'd enjoyed his little romp with Greengrass, he couldn't help the feeling of guilt he had in his stomach. He'd wished it was Granger with him a number of times that evening, especially when he was forced to have a conversation with Daphne. He'd drifted away from her superficial words, her voice lulling him into a comatose state. She never got offended though. She would never dare argue with him. He hated how much he missed Granger already and Daphne made it both better and worse.

On the first day back for term, Malfoy made it a point to ignore Granger as much as possible. He could feel her eyes upon him at breakfast. He'd ducked behind the first group of students that passed him when the bell rang and met up with Greengrass in Potions, making sure to be seen flirting with her when Granger walked through the doors. Her face fell instantly, he'd noted, but she had regained composure like a professional, taking her usual seat at their desk. Her desk now, he thought sullenly.

He'd thought throwing Greengrass in her face would make him feel like he'd beaten her, but he'd been wrong. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd anticipated. And when she'd refused to beg him to participate in Dueling Club, his heart had sunk. He wanted her to want him as badly as he wanted her. He wanted Hermione to grab him right there in class and kiss him, to claim him. But there was a small part of him that knew, if she had, he'd have pushed her away, rejecting her as she'd done to him. Draco's heart and mind were becoming equally unstable.


End file.
